


In Our Hearts

by inquisitorsmabari



Series: In Our Hearts [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Canon-Typical Violence, Casual Sex, Committed Relationship, Developing Relationship, Drunk Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Mentions of Pregnancy, Mentions of Violence, Modern Thedas, One Night Stands, References to Depression, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, alcohol use, i'll add more as they become appropriate, plot heavy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-03 03:57:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 119,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13333005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitorsmabari/pseuds/inquisitorsmabari
Summary: The war between the mages and the Templars is long over, and all Amelie Trevelyan wants to do is start again, putting the memory of the bloody war and the years of imprisonment in the Circle behind her by moving away from her childhood home to find a new life in Val Royeaux. But beneath the glitz and glamour of Val Royeaux society lies the scars of its violent past, and what she thinks is a new life and a fresh start, may be no more than a bitter reminder of what came before





	1. Strangers

The door slammed shut as the last student rushed out of the intimately small lecture room, and Amelie sighed with relief. With the click of the door as it slid into the frame, her new life had officially begun. This was what she had worked toward these past few years, with years spent with her nose burrowed in a mountain of books. And now, it was real.

She was no longer a mage of the Ostwick Circle, or a knight-enchanter for the rebel mages, or a very rapidly trained medic for the losing side. No, she was an academic at the University of Val Royeaux now, and her future looked as bright as the luminescent bulbs which dazzled her eyes as she gathered up her pile of notes with trembling fingers.

“We should've gotten you in sooner,” Leliana said, coming over to join Amelie behind the lectern where she watched her pack up her notes and scraps of paper with piercing blue eyes. “I always disliked the history lectures. Of course, I didn't hate doing them, but it's good to have someone in who knows so much about the field.”

“Well, I can't say it went as well as I would have liked...” She told her remembering the distinctive sound of a loud snore that had interrupted her section on the Nevarran Accord as she avoided Leliana’s gaze and focused on collecting together her crumpled notes.

“Well anyway, it's over now. Your first lecture in the bag” Leliana said as she looked at Amelie with a triumphant smile. “Fancy going out to celebrate?

“Oh,” She said with a degree of surprise, her hands slowing as she mulled over the invitation. “I don't want to drag everyone out on my behalf she muttered.”

“Well in all honesty, we were going to go out anyway to celebrate Josephine’s promotion to faculty head.” She admitted with an apologetic smile. “Do you know her?”

“I don't actually, so maybe I should just-"

“Oh don't be silly!” She cried, giving her shoulder a playful jab. “I’ll see you there. It's the bar just off the market square, the Golden Lion!” She said as she made her way out of the classroom, quickly shutting the door behind her before she could say no to her invitation.

Well, that was that, her plan to go home and enjoy a glass of wine and a bubble bath were over. Her baby blue onesie would have to be replaced with a cocktail dress and her posh navy blue coat. Oh well, it had been a while since she had gotten dressed up, maybe she would enjoy it? With a sigh, she left the classroom, resigning herself to the fact that her pleasantly empty calendar for tonight was now full. But perhaps it was a good thing? These were her colleagues now, these were the people would be part of her new life. This was her fresh start, and she had to do it right. As she forced the excitement to build, She even began to plan her outfit as she walked the corridors of the humanities department, her heels clicking on the tiled floor as she waltzed past classrooms and study spaces, past cafes and bars with students laughing and lounging in comfortable armchairs, past offices for lecturers and researchers, until she got to her favourite place: the library. The library was always a peaceful place for her, it always had been even when she was in the circle, and this was no exception. Even when it was filled to the brim during exam season, she still found her peace here. The silence allowed her mind to wander, her consciousness to escape into a realm of fantasy, the gears in her mind working as she flicked through her wardrobe and picked out a dark blue cocktail dress that she hoped complimented the right parts of her figure. Yes, she would wear dark colours tonight, something plain, something simple, but something-

“Hey, Amelie!” Dorian cried called to her from his desk in the history section, his moustache once again twirled to perfection and his suit once again as sharp as a blade. He wasn’t one for change, nor was he one for turning up to work looking anything less than perfect. He was consistent, in that way at least. “How was your first lecture?” 

“Don't, please,” She said, collapsing down in to the chair next to him And resting her head in her hands as Dorian placed a mug of murky brown coffee on the desk in front of her. “Was it that bad?” He asked with his brows furrowed as he watched her clutch at her coffee with hands that still trembled ever so slightly.

“Well no one died of boredom, at least I don't think they did” She told him, clutching the hot mug of coffee to her chest. “But I did get roped into going out for drinks with all the staff.” with who? He asked her, turning to frown at her with his brows furrowed “And why wasn't I invited?”

“Josephine, all the history staff, it's to celebrate her promotion,” She told him with a nonchalant air as she sipped her lukewarm coffee. “Although I barely know her, it was Leliana who invited me.”

“Oh well I'm glad one of us is having fun tonight,” Dorian said rolling his eyes as he slumped backwards into his chair, his eyes glazing over as he stared into cup of coffee in his hands.

“You could come too?” She asked, her eyes wide with hope as gave him a pitying stare “Keep me company?”

“Nope I've taken the hint, no handsome archivists allowed,” He said. “Fereldan Housewives is on tonight anyway.”

“It is?” She cried in a high pitched voice which earned her a ‘shhhh’ from a nearby student, whose head was buried deep in a thick brown book on third age agricultural practices. “Oh well, you'll have to keep me posted.”

“And you!” He said with a hint of glee, his dark eyes twinkling as his moustache twitched in time with his lips. I'd love to know what exciting things happen at a party I'm not invited to. if you're that desperate to go then go!” She told him with a sigh as she looked at him with an exasperated glare.

“I’m not! I’m just teasing!” He insisted, shaking his head at her as if she were a child being scolded. “But I’d like to hear all the Gossip, I want to hear if Josephine falls over a bar stool, or Leliana gets in a fight, or if any of you pull.” 

“Well I don’t know about anyone else but I'm not looking!” She scoffed as she pulled at a loose thread that had risen from her new work trousers, a wave of heat rising up her necks to cover her cheeks in a veil of scarlet red.

“Sometimes good things come to you when you're not looking.” He said, looking at her over the brim of his coffee mug with a teasing glare.

“Right,” She said, rolling her eyes as she hid her warm cheeks behind her coffee mug. “Is that from experience? Did you get around a lot in the Tevinter Circles then?”

“Shh!” He hushed, quickly looking over the edge of his desk at the few students who had elected to spend a sunny day with their head in a book. It was nice being able to talk about mages and Circles with Dorian, but she did have a habit of forgetting that she couldn’t share that luxury with the rest of Val Royeaux. “And no, not really, I'm just offering a bit of hope.”

“You sound like my mother honestly.” She told him, scrunching up her face in a look of disgust.

“She sounds like an amazing woman!” He said, smiling as he stifled a laugh. “Another one?” He asked, waving the flask in front of her face with his free hand.

“She really isn't and no, thanks,” She said, rising to her feet with a heavy sigh as she drained the dregs from her coffee mug. “I'd better get going, I guess I need to get ready for tonight.”

“Good luck, Amelie!” He called after her, earning another ‘shhhh’ from the nearby student, who gave her a mean scowl as she walked past.

“Thanks!” She called back to him, shouting over the poor girls head as she waved to her friend. Sure, it was only her first week and she’d already earned the ire of a student she would hopefully never have to see again. But she was determined to hit it off with her new colleagues, everything could only go up from here, after all.

This was her new life, her fresh start. The war was behind her, the Circle was behind her, and the whole world lay ahead.

But she had to get through tonight first.

\-----

“You made it!” Leliana cried as she walked through the door to the bar, a small, cosy bar covered in aging wood, with a rowdy crowd drowning out any music that might have been playing. It was hot too, a welcome change to the cold, wet rain which had drizzled on her as she walked through the city of Val Royeaux, which glowed iridescent as the street lights and bars lit up the night sky.

“Oh, you must be our newest lecturer!” A woman called to her as she rushed over to greet her, her dark skin emanating the radiant glow that indicated alcohol consumption, as she sat with her hands cradling a glass of wine and her hair neatly tucked behind her ears and styled to perfection. “I'm Josephine, I'm so glad you could make it!”

“Thank you for inviting me,” Amelie replied, shaking her delicate hand. “And congratulations, of course.”

“Oh thank you,” She said, before grabbing a glass from their table and filling it with golden, sparkling wine “You have some catching up to do, Amelie, is it?.” She said giggling, passing her the glass.

“Yes, Amelie Trevelyan,” She said, taking a seat at the table filled with people she recognised, but more people she'd never seen before.

“Well, You know Leliana,” Josephine began. “But this is Solas, he teaches Ancient Elven History.” She said, pointing to a bald man in a dark coloured shirt, who seemed to be scowling at the woman beside him, who Josephine told her was called Morrigan. The other names went by in a flash, mixed in with impressive sounding research fields and the odd drunken giggles. She'd find them all online later, anyway.

“So, Amelie,” Leliana mused. “We know next to nothing about you. Let's start easy! Where did you work before?”

“Oh, well,” She said, taking a large sip of wine as she fought to control her nerves. I...didn't really...”

“Oh you must be so young!” She cried, reaching over to look at her more closely with wide, brown eyes as if she were inspecting her. “Fresh out of university yourself and now you're teaching at one of the best institutions in Thedas! You must be so clever!”

She meant to interrupt as if to dispute her claims that she was at all clever or at all young, but a rapturous thunder of laughter filled the tiny bar and drowned out her words as the whole bar turned to look at the group at the back of the room who dared to make so much noise.

“Don't worry about them,” Leliana sighed, throwing them a steely look before knocking back the remnants of her prosecco. “They've been like it all night.”

“Well whatever, I'm getting another drink,” Josephine shrugged as she too emptied her glass. 

“I don't mind paying,” Amelie offered, earning herself a sweet smile that filled her with confidence even as the thought of her cobweb filled bank account threatened to overwhelm her. But this was work, it was necessary.

“Oh you're so sweet!” Josephine cried as she passed over her empty glass, before Amelie turned to collect glasses and drinks orders from the rest of the table.

Retreating to the bar with a sigh, she opted not to sit on the rather disgusting looking bar stool and instead lean against the sticky wooden bar, opting to give her feet a rest as they screamed at her for subjecting them to the bondage of high heels for the whole day. 

“Are you using this?” A man behind her asked, almost causing her to drop the glass she was holding in surprise as She turned to find the owner of the voice, a taller man with blonde hair and a stern gaze, who was gesturing cautiously to the bar stool next to her.

“Oh, no, sorry,” She replied, inching away from the stool with a shuffle of her aching feet. “I take it you're with that group over there?” She asked politely, the wait for her drinks causing an unfortunate and awkward silence.

“Yeah,” He said. “I take it you're with the loud group over there?” He asked, gesturing at her colleagues, who now appeared to have broken out the playing cards. He smiled as he said it, the scar just above his lip giving him a unique, crooked smile. It was interesting to her how much his face changed when he smiled, perhaps because of the soft nature of his voice or because of the drink she had consumed, but it was a lot less stern, and somewhat warm and comforting. Perhaps that's what filled her with confidence, stopped her hands from shaking and made her speech more clear. Or it was the alcohol.

“Oh sorry, are _we_ the loud ones in here tonight?” She asked with a laugh, shaking her head as she heard him give a panicked laugh.

“Not really, I was just kidding,” He said, smiling awkwardly as he looked down at her with eyes that appeared to be made of gold. “I've seen worse, although I'm a bit concerned about the number of drinks you're buying for them.” He said as her round of drinks began to fill up the bar in front of them, a cascade of shining glass filled with liquids of every colour.

“Don't worry my bank account is too,” She told him with a sigh. “But first impressions and all that, I want this job to go well.”

“New job?” He asked politely as he turned his attention to the man behind the bar to order a whiskey.

“Yeah,” She said, before adding. “First one since the war.” Maker, what was she doing? She was in Val Royeaux, sat in the shadow of the infamous White Spire, and she had just casually let slip that she was in the war. This would be the last time she talked to strangers while under the influence of prosecco.

“You were there too?” He asked her, his eyes widening with shock as he turned to face her with his glass of whiskey in hand.

“As a medic, yeah,” She shrugged, turning her gaze away from his as she glanced nonchalantly over her shoulder at her new friends, who had devolved into a game of Wicked Grace in her abscence.

“I was there as well,” He told her, apparently undeterred by her reluctance as she kept her gaze away from his. “I’m still army, though. I didn’t manage to get away from it like you’ve done. All of us here are, actually." He said gesturing to the group that he had left behind. “Although I'm behind a desk now though, it's much safer.”

“Fair enough,” She said, just as the last of the drinks was dropped on to the bar. “Did you want another one?” She asked, pulling the conversation away from war with a simple, but highly effective, bribe. 

“Oh, thanks,” He said with some surprise, throwing her a smile that was ever so slightly crooked as it caught on the ragged scar that crept across his lip. “I guess you're feeling generous tonight, or are you normally this kind to strangers in bars?”

“No it definitely depends on how friendly I'm feeling” She said, relaying the order to the barman and preparing her purse for the onslaught to her bank account. “What was your name again, sorry?”

“Cullen. Cullen Rutherford,” He told her, extending his hand whilst his face broke in to a smile once again.

“Amelie Trevelyan,” She said, shaking his hand, before replacing her ever so slightly clammy hand with the cold glass of whiskey, which she noticed just then was the same colour as his eyes, a golden brown with an essence of fire, that hint of potency, an unrivalled strength which emanated from the glass, and from him, it seemed. “It was good to meet you.” She said quickly, returning her gaze to the drinks she had to somehow deliver to her friends, who seemed heavily invested in their game of Wicked Grace.

“See you around,” He said, raising his glass. “And thanks for the drink.”

“You’re welcome,” She said smiling. Part of her didn’t want to leave, part of her wanted to stay and talk to the handsome stranger who had bumped into her at the bar, it wasn’t often these things happened, after all. Except her decision was made for her by the tall bald elf who Josephine told her was their resident expert on ancient elvhen history “Do you need help with those?” He asked her politely, his voice almost muffled by the giant scarf around his neck.

“Yeah, sure,” She said, looking behind her at where the man called Cullen had stood, except he was gone now, and she was left to forget about the encounter entirely and return to her new friends. 

At the table an increasingly ferocious game of cards was unfolding in front of her but she didn’t buy in, her bank account had taken enough abuse for the night. Instead, she laughed at their jokes and stories, offering her own anecdote here and there. Not too much, just enough. And soon the alcohol began to drain out of people’s systems or, rather, sleep became too tempting, and they began to drop, one by one, until it was just her, Leliana, and Josephine, who had fallen asleep on Leliana’s shoulder. 

But something she noticed throughout the night, as the game wore on and people grew weary, was that the other group were much quieter than before. People had peeled away with an ever increasing urgency as night turned slowly into morning. And now that the crowds had ebbed, she could feel the intense stare of a man with golden hair who sipped whiskey at the other end of the bar. She tried so hard to distract herself with her drink, or the card game, or by listening intently to others as they spoke to her. But she soon grew tired of listening, words became no more than mumbles, the card game ended, and the drink in her glass disappeared piece by piece until all she could do was prod limp slice of lime that sat at the bottom with her straw.

“I should probably get her home,” Leliana said with a sigh, shoving Josephine’s shoulder with her free arm and waking Amelie from her wistful daydream. “Come on, get up Josie.”

“No!” She replied sleepily, her eyes fluttering open for a brief second, before slamming shut again. “Not my dolls, Yvette!” She mumbled into Leliana’s coat as she slipped back into the Fade.

“Oh, Maker,” Leliana groaned, pulling Josephine up until she stood, swaying slightly, but supported by Leliana’s arm.

“Are you alright with her?” Amelie asked rising to her feet in the hopes that this would be her way out, that she could leave the bar with these women and the red flush on her cheeks could fade in the cold night air. 

“I should be,” She replied, causing a wave of disappointment to wash over Amelie. “We don’t live too far away from each other. Come on!” She cried, yanking Josephine along beside her, who couldn’t seem to pick her feet too far off the ground. She heard a slurred “I love you” in Josephine’s thick Antivan accent as they left and, finally, she could let out the laugh she had been holding in for much of the night, and she could finally get herself home.

She was one of the last to leave the bar that night. But to her surprise, when her eyes scanned the bar in earnest, the man, Cullen, was nowhere to be seen, and she couldn’t quite work out if that was a good thing or not.

As she left the cosy warmth of the almost empty bar and braced herself against the bitter cold wind that always seemed so prevalent down here, she paused, her eyes falling on a man standing outside the bar with another woman, a woman who looked fierce and intimidating with her strong jawline and the ragged scar on her cheek. They were stood right in her way and, as she went to shuffle past them, she drew their attention.

“Hey!” Cullen called out to her, recognisable only from the scar she had noticed earlier as the rest of him stood shivering beneath a thick layer of clothing. “Are you walking home alone?”

“Yea, I don't live far, it's fine,” She said, shrugging off the concern in his voice and pointing nonchalantly at the street ahead of them, which was much darker and less friendly than it had looked on her way out. But she was conscious of the tide of red that was rushing towards her cheeks, and she would definitely take a slightly dimly lit street over the embarrassment of him noticing that her body melted into a puddle before his delicate, golden gaze.

“The docks?” He said, smiling his crooked smile once again. “I live near there. I don't mind accompanying you. But, you know, only if you want to. I just happen to be going to same way…”

“Sure,” She said, laughing under her breath as his cheeks turned scarlet red, his hand reaching up to stroke the back of his neck. And here she was thinking he was a smooth, drunken, stranger, who'd picked up a hundred girls the same way. Apparently not.

“I'll see you on Monday, Cassandra,” He told the woman, whose face was a mixture of shock and amusement. As she watched her friend stumble his way through a flirtatious exchange.

“Have a good night, Commander,” She said with a sly voice as they turned away, walking towards the dimly lit road to the docks.

“You didn't have to do this, you know,” Amelie told him, her eyes drifting over to the outline of his face, or the part of it that wasn't obscured by his scarf, which was a similar shade of red to her own. “I'm sure I could've made it home.”

“Well, maybe I wanted to.” He said, his voice smooth and alluring, before he looked over at her and caught her gaze, causing him to once again turn a brilliant shade of crimson. “Have I read this wrong, I'm sorry-"

“No, you haven't,” She said, smiling up at him as they both came to a halt beneath a glowing white street lamp. She was trapped in his honey coloured gaze, her legs unable to move, to carry her away. But her arms weren't, she didn't know why she did this, whether it was the drink, the adrenaline, the fact that she was standing in front of a handsome man who had approached her, out of all those people at the bar. She reached up to him, her hands touching the cold skin on his face, and she kissed him. It was only a quick kiss. In fact, it could hardly even be described as a kiss. It was more like a brush of lip against lip, so faint she could hardly feel it. But it happened, she had made it happen, and she realised this all too soon.

“I'm sorry, I-" She stammered, filling the awkward silence between them and looking at her feet with shame. But she was interrupted by a gentle hush from Cullen, a finger on her chin lifting her gaze to meet his, and another brush of lip against lip. Except, this time, it wasn't brief, or gentle, it was far from it. She was sent into a frenzy, the fierce passion behind his lips, the desperation she felt as his gloved fingers grasped at her face and her hair, the hunger as his lips parted and enveloped her own, closing over her bottom lip slowly as they eventually came to a stop.

“My house is just around that corner,” He told her as he locked eyes with her, his fingers still attached to the skin on her face, solid and strong at the line where skin met hair. Their breathing was loud, desperate, needy, the panting translating to fine clouds of white in the cold night air.

“Lead the way,” She said with a smile. A small laugh escaped his lips in response, before a gloved hand grabbed her own, his pace quickening as they moved along the dimly lit street and towards his house, a terraced house, tall and proud and uniform, just like him.

It had been an interesting day, to say the least. And now, it was about to end with her on her back, naked on a stranger's bed, with a stranger between her legs, and her hand grasping at a stranger's headboard as she came in a rush of sensation and pleasure. She’d never done it before, never been so careless, never been so open with herself, so ready to come seek pleasure in the arms of someone she didn’t even know.

This was her new life now, her fresh start. She was a different woman, a woman with a career, with a purpose, a goal. And a woman who was confident enough to not only win over her new colleagues, but also meet a handsome man at a bar and let her guard down as she melted beneath his honey coloured gaze. 

This wasn't like her, not at all, this wasn’t who she was, who she _used_ to be. But, Maker, did it feel good.


	2. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the night before, Amelie wakes up in a handsome strangers bed, defying everything she knows about herself. But is this all just part of her new life? Is this the woman she wants to be?

Sunlight streamed in through the blinds, piercing her delicate eyes with a harsh intensity as they began to open, slowly, carefully. With a groan of protest, She forced them shut almost straight away, burrowing her head in the soft pillow and inhaling the comforting smell, the earthy smell, the masculine smell… She sat upright, regretting it almost instantly as a wave of nausea hit her, her head spinning from the remnants of last night's drinking session. But, struggling against the heavy weight upon her head, she rose slowly off of the bed and looked around fervently, her eyes scanning the room she had woken up in. In the bright light of the morning sun, she saw an untidy room littered with hurriedly abandoned clothes, and discarded bedding. Everything was of a muted colour, the trousers were dark and shirts clung to chairs with their limp sleeves hanging off of the side. 

This wasn't her flat.

She looked down, her brows furrowed as she pieced together the blurred memories of the night before. But to her surprise, she was naked, completely exposed.to the cold morning air which caused her skin to stand on end and her freckled skin to rise in tiny bumps. She shivered, turning her head to survey the room once again with frantic eyes, eyes which fell upon a dark blue dress that sat amongst the pile of clothes as if it were mocking her.

Oh, Maker, what had she done?

She was alone, but she knew now that that had not always been the case, although where the owner of this room had gone she had no idea. Who even was he? Her mind tried desperately hard to piece together the shattered fragments of her alcohol infused memory, but all she earnt was a headache. Except, no, she remembered whiskey, passed into a hand in a frosted glass with ice, whiskey in the colour in his eyes, in the smell on his breath, in the bitter taste of his lips against hers

Maker, she had to get out of here.

Ignoring the pounding in her head, she scrambled her clothes together and threw her dress over her head, flattening down her tangled red hair as she did so. She was going to look a state walking along the seafront to her home although, thankfully, she seemed to remember it not being far. Still, if she got caught, she’d probably have to emigrate.again She practically threw herself down the stairs, whilst painfully aware of the fact that she was wearing relatively high heels and her head felt like it was about to implode at any second, she prayed to the Maker and Andraste under her breath that she could slip out unseen, unnoticed, so that she wouldn’t have to face the nightmare she had placed herself in. Except, the nightmare had a dog, because of course he did. The loud bark gave her away and she froze, solid, at the bottom of the stairs. She looked around very slowly, only to find that a sliding glass door leading out to a tiny garden was lying open, with a man and his dog standing on the other side. A loud bark tore through the house and stopped her in her tracks just as she descended the final step and made to make her escape along the long, roughly carpeted hallway and out of the aged wooden door. But she was rumbled, her plan had been thwarted, and all she could do was turn her head slowly towards the source of the barking as she closed her eyes and grimaced. But as she peeled her eyes open to look at the man whose house she had found herself in, her grimace turned to an open mouthed gape.

Because this man wasn't a nightmare. Far from it, actually. He was beautiful. He was tall, broad, with golden, messy, hair and a cigarette hanging from his long fingers. She didn't normally find smoking attractive, but for some reason there was something about the way the cigarette dangled from his fingers, fingers which had done so much to her if she remembered the night correctly, dancing across her skin just as they danced across the end of the cigarette. More was coming back to her now; there was the feeling of warm, rough fingers across her cold skin which worked away the goosebumps with gentle strokes and firm clutches. And then there was the light touch of a thumb which brushed against her breasts before moving across her torso, massaging the curves of her hips before going well below her bikini line. 

Her cheeks were reddening again and her breath was becoming hitched. But she became ever more aware of the silence which rose between them, filling the air with an awkward unpleasantness that made her painfully aware that she had to say something, anything.

“I, um-" She stammered, clearing her throat as she fought the calm the storm in her cheeks. “I need to get going, sorry.” Shit, why was she apologising? But then what did people normally say in this situation? It’s not like she did this regularly, after all. In fact, this was the first time she had ever done something like this, and it felt like she was drowning in open water with no one to shout for help.

“It's fine,” He said, lowering his gaze and staring at the cigarette in his hand.

“It's just...” She said slowly as her mind strained to formulate the right words. 

“No, it’s... It’s fine, honestly,” He told her,with a shrug of his shoulders. Maker he looked like she'd kicked him in the ribs, as he stared at the ground beneath his feet kicking at the dirt with his worn slippers with a methodical rhythm. She was absolutely rubbish at this, she really was.

“I'll, um, see you around?” She responded slowly, turning around to dart out the door. Except, before she could, she turned around again, drawing his gaze once more. “Thank you.” She blurted out, earning a confused look and an embarrassing red face. “I meant, for letting me stay last night. I was, um-"

“A bit drunk?” He asked, his lips forming a crooked smile, the same one that had disarmed her the night before.

“A little bit, yeah,” She said, returning his smile. The two of them shared a laugh, just an awkward, stifled laugh, but still a laugh. It was something, at least.

“See you around, Amelie,” He said, his eyes and his charming smile lighting up his face once again as he said his goodbyes. The way he said her name...part of her didn't want to say goodbye, part of her wanted to repeat the night before, tearing off the old clothes he had hurriedly dressed himself in, with the heavy black coat he had worn last night being the first of her victims as she stripped him to the skin. Except she was a mature woman, an adult, with self control and a sensible nature. So all she did was turn and hurry out of the house before she could think of turning back.

She hurried down the road, thanking the Maker with every step that she only lived around the corner, that the sea was in view before she'd taken more than a few steps down the road. She was also thankful that she didn't see anyone she recognised, any of her colleagues or her students, that would be the worst thing that could possibly happen to her. Worse than waking up in a stranger's bed with very little memory of what had happened, anyway.

The sight of the docks as she turned the corner into her road, with the tall fishing ships rocking lazily as a gentle sea breeze blew through their masts, was a blessing to her, her heart filling with joy as she quickened her pace, desperate to reach the safety of her home. She could see it now, squashed within a row of houses with its gaudy red front door and the plain concrete square that the letting agent had lovingly called a ‘garden’, fronted by a black gate which slammed against the metal post as she hurried inside, fumbling for her front door keys.

Once inside, she shut out the world, slamming the big red door behind her with all her might and collapsing against it, her breaths ragged and desperate as she fought off the effort of her walk of shame, and all the good and the bad thoughts assaulted her at once, her regrets, her shame, and the thought that actually, she had enjoyed it, far too much. Her words echoed through the empty corridor and the neighbours probably cursed under their breath as she shouted into the void.

“Fuck!”

\-----

“Bet you were saying that last night, too,” Sera teased as she sat behind Amelie, whose head was resting in her arms against the shop counter, braiding her hair into some form of weird new style, she imagined.

“That's not funny,” She mumbled into the fabric of her blue coat. Sera was possibly not the best choice of person for her to go to for advice, but she had little choice. Her first instinct was to text her brother, but he would have just laughed at her, and all her other friends were hardly even friends yet, and she was very keen for them not to get a bad impression of her after only one week.

“It so is!!” Sera cried, bursting into a fit of laughter which made her tug on Amelie’s hair rather sharply. “I don’t know why you’ve got your panties in a twist anyway, it’s just sex!”

“Who’s having sex?” Dagna asked, emerging from her workshop with black marks all over her face and a thick pair of goggles sitting on her hairline.

“Amy-wamy had a one night stand,” Sera answered in a sing-song voice. “And now she’s sulking because she’s a prissy knickers.”

“Why were they awful or something?” Dagna asked nonchalantly as she rummaged through a pile of tools behind the counter.

“Oh Maker, no,” She said, raising her head up out of her arms for the first time since she’d arrived in their pokey corner shop filled with strange and bizarre items. “He was gorgeous.” 

“Then what’s your problem?” Dagna asked, her head popping up from her pile of tools as she grinned at Amelie.

“It’s not what I do!” She cried. “I don’t just go to bars and pick up guys and then never see them again!”

“Why not, it’s fun?” Sera asked, finishing up her intricate braid with a big white flower which she pushed into the hair behind her ear. “Although with me, it was always girls,but that was before I found my widdle!" She said squishing Dagna's cheek with an outstretched hand before wildly changing the subject. "Do you want some cake? It’s chocolate.”

“Yeah,” She said with a sigh, her lips pouting as she sunk further into her chair.

“I thought you were dieting?” Dagna asked staring up at Amelie with a disappointed frown.

“Not anymore,” She said, taking the cake quickly from Sera and shovelling it into her mouth. “I’d rather have a flabby stomach and a handful of cake than be miserable.” She said between mouthfuls. “I was only doing it for my mother anyway, she’s desperate for me to find a man, she says that men don’t like women who are bigger than them, in height and width.”

“Well now you have, right?” Sera asked with a giggle. “Anyway tell her that’s bullshit, gives them something to hang onto.”

“I’m not telling her I had a one night stand, Sera, and there's no way I'm repeating that to her either,” She told her, her words muffled by the soft, gooey sponge that she was piling into her mouth. “And I might never see him again, anyway, I don’t even have his number.”

“You never know! Life is full of surprises!” Dagna said with glee. “Oh!” She cried suddenly, her eyes lighting up and a smile spreading across her face. “I was going to ask you something.” 

“What’s that?” She asked, her eyes fixed on her cake as Dagna danced around her.

“Do you happen to have a staff?” Amelie almost spat out her cake all over the shop counter as the words sunk in. Coughing and clearing her throat, she eventually came back to her senses.

“You know that would be incredibly illegal!” She told her, her face a picture of innocence and shock, before lowering her voice and drawing closer to Sera and Dagna despite the store being empty. “Why what do you need it for?”

“Amy!!” Sera cried, pulling on Amelie’s hair once again as she bolted upright in her chair. “You do not have a staff!!”

“Shh!” She hushed her in earnest, looking around at the empty shop before returning to the conversation. “It isn't mine anyway. I handed mine in to be destroyed, otherwise I wouldn't be here would I!”

“Then who's is it?” Dagna asked, her eyes glistening with excitement.

“Did you steal it?” Sera asked intently.

“No I didn't steal it,” She told them, rolling her eyes at them before turning her attention back to her cake as she avoided their gaze. “My uncle was in the Circle with me and one of the Senior Enchanters smuggled it out to give to me, said she couldn’t bear to hand it in after he died.” 

“I think it's stupid anyway, destroying all those staves! It’s all for show!” Dagna blurted out. “I mean, it's not like you actually need them.”

“Yeah right you could kill us all anyway if you really wanted to,” Sera said, her words fringed with fear as she stared at Amelie with feral eyes.

“Thanks, Sera,” Amelie sneered, before turning her gaze on Dagna, who she watched with a degree of confusion. “Anyway, what do you need it for?”

“Oh I don't need it,” Dagna told her. “But it would help, I'd like to know what makes them withstand so much magic, they're fascinating objects, really, plus they’re a lot rarer now than they were before. Outside of a circle they’re basically non-existent so I think it’s so important to-”

“Alright, yeah, sure,” She said, knowing full well that there was no way she could stop Dagna’s curiosity. “But you'll have to come over, I can't bring it here.”

“Ok!” She cried with excitement, her face lighting up like a child’s on Satinalia. “Let me know when I can come over, I don't want to get in the way of you and your man.”

“He's not my man!” She told her with a sigh, earning a laugh from the two girls. “Anyway, I'm going to get going before you both make me hate myself even more.”

“Take some cake with you!” Sera cried, running out to the backroom and returning with a slice of cake sloppily wrapped in cling film. “At least then if you do hate yourself you can eat away the pain.”

“I do that anyway, Sera,” She reminded her, gesturing to the nice fold of skin that always hung over her jeans as she backed away from the counter. “But thank you.”

Leaving the shop filled with the weird and downright bizarre, hailed by the tinkle of an old bell above the door and an erratic wave from the two girls, she felt a sense of relief. Not just from the cool air which assaulted the skin on her face and cleared her clouded mind, nor the regularity of the hustle and bustle around her which rendered her invisible, but from the feeling of weight lifting off of her shoulders. It had helped to talk to them, even if they had given her absolutely no advice and gotten herself to agree to whatever illegal thing Dagna was planning. But as she began the walk home from the busy market square, down long lines of houses and stores, past dog walking parks and people dining out in the cool air buried amongst layers of coats and furs, she began to realise something. They’d been right, it was just sex. It was natural, harmless, sex. So what if she had been drunk? So what if he was a stranger she barely knew? She was into it, he was into it, and what were the chances of ever seeing him again? She could forget about it, move on, knowing that she had had a fun night with a mysterious stranger with no consequences, no messy breakups, and no regrets.

Then she turned the corner into the road she’d escaped from this morning: the road to the docks. She quickened her pace slightly, her stomach churning with nerves as she remembered the night before, her quick flight this morning. Despite everything she had just told herself, part of her remained unnerved. Why couldn’t be as relaxed as Sera? Why was she so much like her mother?

She neared the house she has abandoned this morning and quickly looked down, her eyes glaring at the pavement below her feet, for some reason, as if the house itself had eyes. And, just as she passed the house before it, her worst nightmare happened. The door opened with some force and a man came out, talking encouragingly to the dog which stood next to him, a large drooling mabari, incredibly uncommon in Val Royeaux. He closed the door behind him, before turning to walk down the path, and locking eyes with her almost straight away, as if drawn by some sort of weird, otherworldly, force.

Her heart stopped, her feet stopped, and the life drained out of her in a rush of panic. She said nothing, only staring open mouthed at the horrific twist of fate that had brought her face to face with the man she’d shared a bed with. Even after everything the had told her today, that she had told herself, she found herself speechless, scared, in shock at the cruelty of it all. Here she stood, once again looking at the handsome man with his blonde hair and his gorgeous brown eyes, and all she could think about was the night before, their bodies touching, skin upon skin, eyes roaming, breath panting.

Then she realised the truth. She’d wanted to avoid him, not out of shame at her own transgressions, but out of the shame that she had liked it, that she had given into lust and felt no ounce of regret. That, for some reason, he had made her throw her morals out the window, and all she could think of was abandoning those morals once again in a night of heated, sinful, passion.

Maker, she hated herself. But then again, what had Sera said? _“It’s just sex!”_

So, she fought the urge to run away in the opposite direction and pray to the Maker that she never saw this man again. Instead, she took a deep breath, smiled, and greeted the man who she had shared a bed with not 24 hours ago. 


	3. A New Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fate has brought Amelie to Cullen’s front door after she swore that she would never have to see this man again. Just how far fate plans to go with the two of them, however, remains a mystery.

“Hey, Cullen,” Amelie said with a cool air, as she concentrated all her energy on keeping her voice steady and her hands still, maintaining a calm composure even as a tide of red began to rise from her neck to flood her freckled cheeks. 

“Oh, hi,” He said quickly, his gaze dropping to the floor the instant she spoke. She could almost hear his breath catching, the nervous bumbling she had found so endearing the night before threatening to catch him once again. How could one man be so handsome and yet so... Awkward? 

“So...what are you up to?” She asked slowly, before her eyes fell on the large dog which sat patiently by his feet. Of course, he was dog walking, what a stupid question to ask.

“Just taking this one out for a walk,” He confirmed her suspicions as he nodded to the mabari at his feet, and she looked down at him as if she hadn’t even noticed that the gigantic, panting war hound was there. “He is friendly, by the way. He won’t bite or anything.”

“Oh, right,” She said warily, her eyes falling on the dog and catching his big, wary gaze as he watched her placidly. Taking what she thought was a social cue, she asked him "Can I... say hello?” 

“Sure,” But she hardly waited for his answer, and neither did the dog, his nose twitching as it sniffed her outstretched fist, his eyes curious and his ears standing to attention. as she took the chance to drop her gaze from Cullen and focus all her attention on the dog, who seemed to be enjoying the attention he was receiving as much as she enjoyed giving it “He's called Leo, he was a rescue.”

"A rescue?" She asked, her attention remaining on the dog, who had now decided that he liked her scratching behind his ears, his big eyes closing ever so slightly as he leant into her touch. She wouldn’t mention that his dog had the same name as her brother, she wasn’t exactly sure how close she wanted to get to this man who was still a stranger to her, after all. He may have seen her naked, but that didn’t meant he wanted them to become more than strangers, after all. "Was he a stray?"

"Apparently some Orlesian noble family had bought one for their child, then couldn't look after him," He told her, she could see his eyes narrowing as he told the story, and she got the impression that that was somewhat of a sore spot for him. He was sympathetic to the plight of a defenceless animal, wary of this soft, kind creature who had been downtrodden, neglected, left to fend for itself. That kind of attitude hit her where it mattered; she saw something beyond just a handsome stranger from a bar, she saw a kind soul, a caring soul, and she someone who could, perhaps, be kind to her. "That's the problem with this city, it's full of people who think they can get away with treating people, anyone, like that."

“You get bad people everywhere,” She reminded him, looking up at him with her lips pursed before turning her attention back to Leo the dog and avoiding his gaze once again. "Not just Val Royeaux."

"It’s just... more noticeable here I guess," She heard him sigh above her, drawing her attention to him momentarily as she watched him gaze pensively into the distance. “But maybe that’s just because I’m in a different situation now, like a different perspective.”

"You don't like it here?" She asked with some concern, registering the ways his eyes looked so lost, his face crumpled into a frown as he watched everyone go about their business as the world continued on around them.

"Not really, I'm just here for work," He told her with a nonchalant air, before drawing in a heavy breath as if preparing for a long speech. "Everything here is just so...fake."

"What, the city, or the people?" She asked him, as she slowly rose to her feet to bring herself almost to his eye level. He only stood a few inches taller than her, and it made his gaze unavoidable. 

"Both, I think. All the masks and the gold plated store fronts, it’s so ridiculous!" He said with a laugh of disbelief as he gestured to the world around them. But then, with a sigh, his hands dropped back to his side, and slowly, he turned back to her with a softened gaze. "But then, I don't think you are."

"You hardly know me," She ~~told~~ reminded him with a roll of her eyes and an exasperated laugh, but her cheeks beginning to flush a brilliant shade of pink, and she couldn’t deny that his words had sent a jolt through her heart that almost made her knees give way.

"No," He admitted, matching her smile. "But I think I'm good at reading people."

“Of course you are,” She said, rolling her eyes and stifling a laugh that was shared between the two of them. But their laughs soon turned to silence, and finding herself stood face to face with a man whose golden eyes made her stomach launch into summersaults was proving to be a bit embarrassing for her. “I should probably leave you to it,” She suggested, turning away from him as she gestured to the dog sat at his feet. “He seems eager for his walk, and I don’t want to keep troubling you.” 

“Wait,” He cried, forcing her to turn around and address him once again, his golden eyes boring into her soul as she watched him struggle to find the words to say. “I actually go along the docks on my walk.”

“Really?” She questioned with some level of disbelief, her eyebrows raising as she scrutinised him intently.

“Yeah,” He replied quickly, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he stared into the sky, before his hand fell to his side once again with a sigh. “Well, I normally run, actually.”

“Well that explains the shorts,” She said, gesturing towards his exposed legs. She looked out towards the docks in the distance, where the soft blue of the sea could just about be seen beyond the long row of uniform houses with their matching doors and matching gardens. She smiled to herself, not just at the beauty of the scene in front of her, but also at the fact that, somehow, she'd managed to bump into the same handsome stranger twice in one weekend. Maybe the Maker was on her side, and he had decided to bring a handsome man into her life? It would keep her mother quiet, at least. “Alright then, just don’t make me run as well.”

“I won’t, don’t worry,” He assured her as they started walking slowly down towards the docks. “You don’t like exercise then, I take it?”

“Is it that obvious?” She asked with a laugh as she waved her arms loosely over her body, gesturing to wide curve of her hips which was, for now, hidden beneath her warm coat.

“Wait, I’m sorry, I-” He began, his words melting into an awkward sigh as his fingers grasped at the back of his neck. “That came out so wrong…”

“You know...” She said, looking over at him with a smile that, this time, made him blush. “The way you smooth talked me last night, I never expected you to be so easily flustered.”

“Well, I don’t do this often,” He admitted, his voice trembling slightly as he stared at the ground beneath his feet.

“What, talk to girls?” She asked, enjoying how his face went more and more pink as she continued to tease.

“No, I do, I... just..." He said trailing off into a sigh, before finding his voice once again. “I’m really bad at this, I just get so afraid of messing it up and then you’ll hate me forever and-”

“It's fine,” She said giggling, earning an awkward laugh from him. It was beginning to become endearing, the stammering that she could illicit with the most innocent of remarks, the flush in his cheeks, the way his hand rubbed against the back of his neck. “It’s actually a little bit endearing,” She admitted, causing him to blush once again as they came to a stop beside her house and he watched her with his mouth agape. “Anyway, this is my house just here, so, I'll leave you to it.”

“Oh, right,” He said, as they came to a stop outside the house with the red door, the hustle and bustle of the docks filling the heavy silence between them as she stood by her gate, not wanting this to end, but also desperate to retreat to the safety of her home.

“I'll see you around,” She told him, closing the gate behind her as she walked up the short path to her house.

“Yeah, see you,” He said behind her, his voice quiet as he stood behind her gate, remaining there even as she unlocked the door and gave him one last look, coupled with one last smile before heading into the safety of her home.

She stood with her back against the door for a few minutes, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. It had gone well, or ok, or not terrible, at least she hoped that was the case. And now the awkwardness was over with, and they never had to talk about last night ever again. The sense of relief was astonishing, the weight lifting from her shoulders as she dropped her handbag in the hall and hung her coat on the hangers by her mirror, where her eyes fell upon the reflection of herself in the glass.

“Oh, shit!” She cried, spotting the large white flower that Sera had lovingly placed in her hair, making her look approximately five years old. She loved Sera, and the braiding she had done was amazing but, right now, she felt like the biggest idiot in Thedas. But, then again, he hadn't laughed at her, maybe he found it cute? No, he probably thought she was dumb, and he was probably laughing at her right now.

What she really needed right now was a bath, a hot chocolate, and a book, in that order. It would be an evening all about her, where she could lay in the bath for countless hours surrounded by the smell of lavender, before sitting in her onesie with a hot chocolate and one of the many books she was working her way through. Except it never really worked out that way, the bath water was scorching hot when she first sunk beneath the bubbles, burning her delicate skin which quickly turned a brilliant shade of pink, and the smell of the lavender soothed her, but it couldn't calm her mind. All she could think about was the last 24 hours, the whirlwind she had been sent on, how would she even begin to explain this, to her new friends at the university who would inevitably ask her how she had gotten home? Or, maybe it was best not to tell them, really. But then, maybe they would find out anyway.

While she mused over the thoughts that somehow, for some reason, her colleagues would know about what she'd done the night before as if they were mind readers, or psychics, the bath water very quickly got cold, and she was left to shiver in murky, cold water. With a sigh, she pulled the plug and heaved herself out of the bath, quickly wrapping a towel around herself before the chill of the air could bite at her exposed skin. This was when she missed the tower, with all those people, it was at least warm. Instead, all she had was a dodgy central heating system and a small fireplace in her living room, which was of no help at all right now.

So she was forced to quickly change into her onesie and wrap her hair in a pink towel before the cold caught up with her and, Maker, was she glad she did. Just as she was about to flop onto her bed with her head in her book, she heard a knock at her door. She sat herself upright, her eyes scanning the room as the knocking continued. Who in the name of Andraste was knocking on her door? She hardly had any friends, but then it could be Dagna, she had said she was going to come over. But not _now_ , surely.

She opened the bedroom window slowly, poking her head out ever so slightly and peering down at the sorry excuse for a front garden where a man stood with his hands in the pockets of his thick black coat, shuffling from one leg to another. She couldn't see his face, he looked down at his feet as if embarrassed, or ashamed. Then, she saw his hand stroke the back of his neck, running through the short blonde hair which lay just above the collar of his coat. And, at his heel, a mabari.

Oh Maker, not him. Not _now_.

She yanked her head back through the window in earnest, before ripping off the towel which covered her damp hair and searching the room with her eyes, looking for something, anything, she could throw on top of her onesie. Another knock at the door made her grab the nearest thing she could see, a grey knitted cardigan that she'd gotten for her birthday some time ago.

She ran down the stairs so fast it was a miracle that she didn't fall until the final step, her slipper covered feet sliding on the tiled hallway floor. “Just a second,” She cried as he knocked again, whilst she looked helplessly into the hallway mirror at her dishevelled appearance, her tangle of wet hair, and the onesie which had far too much fabric around the hips to make her look at all flattering.

With a sigh, she shuffled along the hallway to the big red door, before opening it slowly and peering around it with as little of her body showing as possible.

“Cullen?” She asked as if she hadn’t just spent five minutes preparing for this. “I didn't expect you to stop by…”

“I just…” He began, emitting a sigh as he looked up to meet her gaze, her heart skipping a beat as his soft brown eyes fell on her. “There was something I wanted to say earlier,”

“Ok,” She said, pulling the cardigan closer around her as the cold began to creep in through the open door.

“Well,” He said slowly. “I said I don’t do this often, and I meant it. It’s not who I am, I don’t just go around picking up girls in bars, having my way with them, then never seeing them again.” 

He paused, but she said nothing, finding herself at a loss for words as she watched him gather his thoughts before he continued his speech, becoming more and more flustered as he went on, his words coming out quicker as his face became more flushed, the dog behind him becoming impatient and letting out a faint whine. “I couldn’t let you think that I’d used you for my own...you know. I saw you at that bar last night and you looked so beautiful, and you spoke to me with such kindness, and your laugh... _Maker_ …” He paused then, taking a deep breath. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything, it’s not fair on you, I should just leave…”

“No, wait,” She cried, reaching out to the man who had begun to turn away. Only she didn’t say anything straight away, what in the name of Andraste could she say? She had no idea that a quick and easy one night stand would end up with the other party turning up at her doorstep and saying all those nice things. He had called her beautiful, _beautiful_ , whilst she stood in front of him in a baby blue onesie with wet hair and no makeup looking and feeling far from it. _‘It’s just sex!_ ’ Sera had told her. Well, apparently, it wasn’t anymore. She had the suspicion that she had caught feelings for the stranger at the bar, and she thought perhaps he had too.

“Yes?” He asked quietly, his eyes wide with hope as he lifted his head to look down at her once again.

“Are you free next week?” She asked him, swallowing her nerves as heat gathered on her cheeks once again.

“I...can do Tuesday evening?” He offered. staring down at her in disbelief before his lips stretched into a slightly wonky smile

“Great,” She said. “Wait a second.” She bolted from the door briefly, rummaging through the paraphernalia on her hallway table and scrabbling at the nearest pen and paper with shaking hands. She took a second to breath, her breath ragged as adrenaline coursed through her veins. Then, she returned to the doorway with what she hoped was a calm composure, where she scribbled down her phone number and handed the paper to him. “Let me know what time.” She told him with a smile.

“Thank you,” He said, the smile she received in return filled with so much warmth that she no longer felt the chill in the air, in fact, there was little else she could pay attention to. “I’ll see you Tuesday.”

“Yeah, see you,” She said, watching him walk up the garden path before closing the door slowly. Once the door was shut, she turned to look into the empty hallway of her home, taking a few seconds to breathe away her nerves before she cried out into the abyss, her arms raised in the air and her feet stamping in a strange dance as she took in everything that had happened since last night; everything she had felt in this rush of undeniably unusual events, everything that had changed after that one, fateful night in a bar.

She was going on a date. A real _date_. She’d never been on a date before, what would they do? What would they talk about? What would she wear? She buried those thoughts deep in the back of her mind as she instead focused on the sheer excitement of it all, the ecstasy she felt now that a handsome man had not only slept with her, but actually wanted to date her.

Life was looking good for her, Val Royeaux had delivered on its promises of a new, exciting life and, most of all, she was living her life the way normal, non-magic people did. And that was more than exciting, it was everything she had wanted since the war, since moving here.

Life was good. _Life was good._


	4. Date by the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelie must prepare for her first date with Cullen, but, as always, things get in the way.

The days shot by in a flash, blurred by the burdens of chores and work which paled in comparison to the excitement of the weekend past until, finally, time was closing in on 6pm on Tuesday, and she was so close to going home. As her old, second hand watch ticked away the seconds, she smiled at the thought that, soon, she would be away from the world of monotony and thrown head first into the exciting, cosmopolitan life of a modern Val Royeaux woman, a woman who goes on romantic dates with handsome men. But as the hand ticked towards six, she suddenly remembered the presence of Josephine and Leliana who sat on the opposite sofa, chattering away excitedly.

“Hey, Amelie,” Josephine said, drawing her attention to their conversation and forcing her to look up from her watch. “Did you want to come?” 

“Come where, sorry?” She asked, her cheeks reddening as she fought to compose herself amidst the wave of memories that threatened to overwhelm her.

“We’re going shopping tonight,” She said as they continued their walk down the busy halls of the university while Josephine fought to have her words heard. “We’re hoping to get ideas for the New Years ball, and I’d love to spend some more time together, we had so much fun on Friday!” 

“New Years ball?” She queried, her eyes narrowing as the pair turned to her with their mouths agape, before Josephine quickly recovered.

“Of course! You wouldn’t know!” Josephine said, whirling on her heel to look at her with an eager grin. “It’s a masquerade ball held in the city every year on the countdown to First Day, everybody goes and you to come too!” 

“New Year? That’s almost two months away still,” She told them, her brows furrowed in confusion as she wondered what she was even meant to be doing on New Year? Did she have any plans? Did her family normally do anything? Unlikely.

“Yes,” Leliana said slowly, rolling her eyes as she stared at Amelie in disbelief. “But you have to start planning early, otherwise all the good dresses will be gone. Some people have them tailored too.”

“Maybe we should help her? She’s never been before.” Josephine mused, stroking her chin with her delicately pampered fingers before a gasp of delight saw her grab Amelie’s arm as she turned to her with excitement. “Why don’t you come shopping with us tonight?”

“Oh, I can’t tonight, sorry,” Amelie said with a hint of sudden regret. As excited as she was for her date tonight, going shopping with her new friends did sound like it could be fun. 

”Oh, have you made plans?” Leliana asked sweetly, but her narrowed eyes betrayed her curiosity as she glanced at Amelie from beneath her flame red hair.

“I’m just meeting someone,” She said hurriedly, her gaze falling to her watch again, where the ticking of the hand could hopefully stem the tide of red that washed towards her cheeks.

“Not that man you met at the bar?” Leliana asked with a face the very picture of innocence. while Amelie almost choked as Leliana’s words were punctuated by an excited cry from Josephine.

“What?” Josephine cried, her eyes wide with shock as she turned to Amelie with her mouth ajar. “What man? What happened?”

“Nothing, Josephine,” Amelie said, averting her gaze from the two women had come to an almost stop beside her, huddling so close to her that she almost felt as if she couldn’t breathe. 

“Sure,” Leliana said with a giggle. “That’s why your face has turned bright red.”

“Alright!” She cried wearily, running her hand up to hide her scarlet, burning cheek. “I’m going on a date.”

“Ahh!!” They both squealed in delight, Leliana showcasing a sly smile as she muttered “I knew it!” 

“How did you know?” Amelie asked staring her down with narrowed, curious eyes.

“I know everything,” She told her, not at all relaying any suspicions she may have had, but, to Amelie’s relief, she turned back to Josephine with a quick glance at her watch. “We should let you go, I mean, you don't want to be late.”

“Oh, you know what we should do Leliana?” Josephine offered, her voice shrill with excitement as she grinned at Amelie. “We should go shopping one day after work, so we can hear all about it.” 

“When were you thinking?” She asked her with a sigh. She had been keen for a shopping trip, it did sound like it could be fun, but maybe not so much now they seemed determined to learn all her secrets.

“I think we should go Friday,” Leliana declared, staring up at Amelie with eyes as sharp as icy daggers. “Then if she won't tell us anything we can get her drunk.”

“Yes!” Josephine said, bursting into a fit of laughter as she clutched at Leliana’s arm. “Good luck tonight though. I'll come to your office tomorrow morning for the rundown.”

“Thank you,” She said, rolling her eyes as the two girls turned to leave the building from the entrance to the car parks. “See you tomorrow.” As she watched them retreat with their heads huddled together, she finally breathed a sigh of relief. Her day was over, and soon, she could plan for her date. Except, she'd forgotten something. Dagna.

As she sat herself in a window seat on the bus home, a shrill noise sounded from within her black leather handbag. Rummaging through the assortment of tissues and receipts and keys, she eventually pulled out her phone, to the relief of everyone else on the bus, she imagined.

“Hey, when am I coming over?” Dagna asked almost as soon as her finger tapped the green circle.

“Coming over?” She asked with some confusion as she searched her muddled memory in desperation.

“Yeah you said I could,” She was told with a defiant voice. “I thought you said Tuesday? That's not an issue, is it?”

“Well...I guess not,” She sighed as she relaxed into her seat. “But I'm going out tonight so you can't stay long.”

“Oh, wait, you said _not_ Tuesday,” Dagna said, not seeming the least bit concerned about the double booking. “Well, sorry, but it's too late now.”

“What do you mean it's too late?” She asked, but the answer became clear as she stepped off the bus at the docks and saw, outside her house, a familiar looking car, a slightly old, slightly squashed looking, silver car. And, as she got closer, she saw an eager face peering out of it, it's owner waving erratically. With a sigh, she ended the call and approached the window of the car, which descended slowly before Dagna poked her head out with a wide, toothy grin.

“So can I come in?” She asked eagerly, her eyes lighting up as she stared up at Amelie with a grin. “I won't be long, I promise.”

“Yeah, alright,” She relented, although if she had resisted, she was sure it wouldn’t have made any difference. Dagna was following her into her house regardless, and soon she had wormed her way past the front door and was chatting away eagerly. Thankfully, she didn’t have to provide much conversation when Dagna was around, a simple nod or noise of approval here and there being enough to keep her talking for hours, her chatter continuing long after they entered the house, climbed the stairs, and entered her bedroom. She was far from in the mood to talk, her stomach was uneasy, the nerves creeping in as time wore on and the hour drew nearer. Even as she dragged the old staff out from under heaps of spare bedding and old clothes and removed it from its not-so-innocent looking case, she still felt as if a herd of nugs were storming through her stomach. 

There were storm clouds brewing on the end of her staff, but they brewed too in the forefront of her mind, bringing back memories of a war they couldn’t win, a Circle they couldn’t escape from, a life she left behind. 

Did she miss it? Did she miss feeling the power beneath the clutches of her fingers, power which could not only bring people to their knees but also heal them, protect them, keep them safe; that was where her power had always lain. But now she had none of it, it was lost to her, stripped by the words of bureaucrats while she fought to put it all behind her and keep it locked away, hidden.

But now, here it was again.

“This is so cool!” Dagna said with amazement as she took the staff from Amelie and held it in her hands, staring down at it with wide eyes as all traces of magic faded from the ancient, twisting wood..

“Yeah well, it’s still illegal so maybe keep your voice down,” She told her, her eyes darting around the room as if, somehow, the Templars would be hiding behind her pillows. “These walls aren’t exactly thick and those curtains aren’t either.”

“Alright, alright,” Dagna said dismissively. “Why don’t you just get yourself ready for your date?

And stop worrying!”

“I’m always worrying,” She sighed as she began to rummage through her wardrobe, staring at the rail containing a few ‘nice’ dresses for ‘nice’ occasions that hardly ever happened. Pulling out two from very different ends of the spectrum, she turned to Dagna, whose brows were furrowed as she stared intently at the staff in her lap. “Dagna,” She said trying to draw her attention away from the staff. “Dagna!”

“Huh?” Dagna asked her gaze remaining focused on the staff in her hands as she inspected it from all angles with squinting eyes.

“I need your help.” She said with some desperation. When she, finally, looked up at her, she presented the two dresses in turn, the skin tight black one first, then the maroon coloured, loose fitting dress which showed a tiny bit more cleavage but less figure. “Do I go sexy, or girly?”

“Girly, it’s your first date,” She told her, before she quickly returned back to whatever it was she was studying. “Don’t want to seem desperate.”

“Desperate?” She cried, her arms dropping to her sides. “I mean we’ve already had sex, I don’t think I _can_ look more desperate.”

“Oh right yea,” Dagna mumbled. “But still, go for girly, you don’t need to convince him to have sex with you because, well, you already did.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” She said, turning herself around to face the wall before beginning to change.

“Anyway, then I won’t have to wear those big pants, you know, the ones that tuck everything in.” “You wear those?” She heard Dagna laugh behind her.

“Well only if I’m wearing something like that,” She said, her words coming out muffled as she pulled the dress over her head. “What do you think?”

“Gorgeous, as always,” Dagna answered as sweetly as ever. “Also, do you think people could start making staffs again or would that be totally illegal?”

“Dagna that would be worse than illegal,” She said, her mouth agape. “You realise I’d be sent to jail if I was found with that right? Right before being shipped back to Ostwick which is, honestly. my worst nightmare.

“Yea, but,” She said slowly, her lips pursing as she paused, deep in thought. “I’m not a mage, I never left a Circle.”

“So…?” She asked her, turning around to stare intently at her reflection in the mirror on her wall.

“So, I never signed myself onto the register, they won’t search me or anything,” She said carefully as she played with her fingers. “I mean if I studied this I could _definitely_ find ways to...”

“Dagna,” She began, turning round with a mascara wand in hand. “That is a _terrible_ idea and you are _not_ taking that staff with you to do...experiments on. I came here to lay low, not get involved in anything that could get me arrested. I’d like to stay _away_ from the Templar’s if possible.”

“Alright, fine,” Dagna sulked, her lips pouting as she looked down at the staff with a glum expression. “But if you guys ever went to war again it would help a lot.”

“Well, hopefully,” She said in between applying lipstick. “We won’t go to war again.”

Just as she finished speaking, the doorbell rang, making her almost jump out of her skin before turning to Dagna, sat on her bed holding the most incriminating object she owned. Creeping over to the window, she flicked the curtains to the side and peered out, spotting a man in suit jacket with a neat mass of golden hair, which shone an even brighter shade of gold than normal in the dazzling orange light of the setting sun.

“Shit!” She cried, whirling around in a panic as she gathered up her phone, keys, emergency make up and threw them into her tiny black clutch bag. “Dagna, let yourself out and _please_ don't be here when we get back.”

“Oh, you're planning on bringing him back then,” She said with a wink and a cheeky smile.

“Like you said, we've already crossed that boundary,” She told her as she smoothed down her hair. “Put the staff back in the wardrobe and cover it with crap.”

“Alright, have fun,” She giggled behind her as she waltzed out of the door and flew down the stairs, once again tripping over the bottom step. She caught a quick glimpse of herself in the mirror and examined her handiwork, the dark eyes, the bright red lips, the hair which had been brushed quickly and tucked behind her ears, until a knock at the door hurried her on.

The sight which greeted her was beautiful. Her date stood before her in a white shirt, which she noticed with keen eyes hadn’t been done up the whole way, opening out at the top where a long neck evolved into a broad chest with a smart blue blazer covering his shoulders, contrasting against the dazzling white of his shirt and the clean shaven jawline which stood silhouetted against the fading light of the sun. His hair had been slicked back, highlighting his stern countenance, whilst his gentle golden brown eyes showed off his soft nature. 

“Hey,” He interrupted her train of thought, clearing his throat and bringing forward his hand which held in it a small bundle of dazzling white flowers. Staring down at them, and back at her, he cleared his throat again before speaking in somewhat muffled tones as he hid beneath a mask of embarrassment. “I know you normally give your date flowers _before_ sleeping with them but, I thought I'd still make the effort.”

“Thank you, they’re really lovely” She said with a laugh, taking the bundle of flowers and placing them, with some care, in an empty vase which stood on a table in the hall. Grabbing her coat and slipping her feet into the nicest shoes she had to hand, she stepped over the threshold, finding herself close enough to Cullen to be able to smell the scent which permeated from him, an earthy smell, like a forest floor in the height of summer, and it almost sent her head into a frenzy. “So,” She said abruptly, throwing her hands into her pockets as the cool evening air lapped at her heavy blue coat. “Where did you want to go?”

“Well, actually,” He said, looking out over to the seafront behind her with a wistful gaze. “There’s a place by the sea that serves drinks until late, does that sound ok?”

“Sure,” She said with a smile, eliciting a relieved smile from him, coupled with a slight hint of pink on his cheeks that was surely not just from the cold. “Lead the way.”

And he did, they walked together down the promenade with the docks on their right, the overpriced yachts and commercial fishing boats bobbing along joyfully as birds cried overhead, gliding elegantly in the orange-blue sky. The street was busy, as usual, cars drove past and cyclists ambled along the cycle path next to them whilst people ferried from the harbour to the road with crates of fish or bundles of luggage or goods to sell. It was almost always busy here, that’s why she liked it. You could blend into a crowd, she had learnt, and it took a lot to stand out in one.

“Is everything alright?” He asked her, his voice laden with concern as she realised how long she’d been daydreaming for.

“Oh, sorry,” She said with an awkward laugh. “I was just taking in the view. You’re not boring me, I promise.”

“I wasn’t actually thinking that,” He said, chuckling as he brought a hand to the back of his neck, where his face dropped and a frown made itself known upon his lips, his brow furrowed as his gaze dropped to the path beneath their feet.. “But I am now.”

“Oh, Maker, I’m sorry,” She said with a laugh, managing to extract a hint of a smile from him. “Anyway, I think it’s your turn to buy drinks, so I can’t escape until then.”

“Please say that isn’t the only reason you suggested this,” He pleaded, his lips forming an uncertain smile as she noticed him glance cautiously in her direction.

“Oh no,” She shrugged, throwing him a smile that was just a tiny bit playful as they came to a stop outside a small, outdoor bar which near the water's edge sat surrounded by strings of twinkling yellow fairy lights. “You’ve got a pretty cute smile, too.”

Cullen had almost frozen in his tracks at her words, his face a bright red portrait of shock, surprise, and, she hoped, affection. Eventually, he let out a laugh, and caught back up to her with a slight trot. Placing his hand gently upon the top of her back, he said softly “Come on, let’s get you a drink.” Considering that they had already crossed the boundary of touching, amongst other things, relatively early on, it surprised her how much this small act of affection tugged on her heart strings, the butterflies in her stomach once again beginning to take flight. This time, it was her turn to freeze up, and his turn to stifle a laugh. Perhaps they were both as bad as each other, in that regard.

She was relieved when the drink was in her hand and they were sat at a small table overlooking the sea, a single candle in a rounded glass providing light between the two of them as the world darkened around them, the sun descending lower and lower into the sky as time passed. But despite how close they had been, despite the fact that she had been more open with him than any other man on a first meeting, there was an awkwardness between them, a silence that hung over the cool sea air like a dense cloud of murky fog. And it took most of a glass of wine for her to find the confidence to cut through that fog, and reach out to the man who hid beneath.

“I feel like I need to ask,” She began as the first glass of wine was just a bit more than half empty. “Do we just forget about the other night and pretend this is the first time we’ve met, or…?”

“Well, I don’t know about you,” He said, looking over the rim of his glass. “But I don’t really want to forget about the other night.”

“Feeling confident in yourself, then?” She asked with a sly smile, her fingers running over the outside of the glass as she watched him, emboldened by the alcohol that now ran through her veins.

“Well, you weren’t complaining,” He teased, his smirk sending a shiver down her spine as he breathed a faint chuckle.

“Actually, I think you were enjoying it…”

“Alright!” She cried with an embarrassed laugh, throwing her gaze over the other patrons in the bar, who all seemed to be paired into twos, staring dreamily at the person in front of them. She couldn’t help but wonder, how many of these people were on their first dates too, albeit she hoped they had decided to do it in the right order. But perhaps there were others too who sought to woo their partner with a drink beneath the cloudless blue sky that was slowly turning a deeper shade of orange. “You don’t have to tell the whole bar that.”

“What? They’re Orlesian,” He told her, as if that provided some sort of reassurance. “They probably won’t understand my ‘rough’ Ferelden accent.”

“So you don’t know any Orlesian?” She asked with narrowed eyes as she sipped at the rich, red wine in her glass. “But you’re living in Val Royeaux?”

“No, I’m Ferelden, I’m practically allergic,” He said with a stern countenance. “I’m practically allergic.I bet you can though, you seem clever.”

“My mother insisted on us learning it,” She told him with a roll of her eyes as she placed the almost empty glass down gently upon the table in front of her. “Apparently it’s incredibly useful”

“Is your mother Orlesian then?” He asked her, pouring himself another glass of wine from the bottle on their table before offering to top up her own glass, which she of course accepted.

“Only half, don’t worry,” She assured him, causing him to breath an exaggerated sigh of relief. “She’s not _from_ Orlais anyway. We live in Ostwick, well I _did_.”

“Why did you leave?” He asked her intently, leaning forward slightly in his seat and resting his arms on the table.

“Well, it’s a long story but…” She began, her words trailing off to a deathly silence as the familiar, nauseating feeling of pure dread amassed in her stomach. But she swallowed, clearing her throat as she took one more sip of her wine. “Anyway, this is a much more exciting place to live.”

“It is?” He asked with a laugh as the candle in front of them flickered, protesting against the breeze which emanated from the sea and causing ripples of honey coloured gold to dance within the gentle brown of his eyes, eyes which looked just like the whiskey she had bought for him on their last meeting.

“Of course,” She cried, her words easing into a smile. “Don’t you think this place is beautiful? I mean, look out there,” She turned her gaze towards the sea, where the setting sun glistened off of the crests of the gentle waves in colours of orange, yellow, gold, as the sea pulsed with life in time with the rise and fall of her breaths. She could find peace here, she knew it. “We have everything here, the city, the atmosphere, the beautiful waters…” She felt a brush of something on her hand, a hesitant touch, before she felt him close his hand around hers, lacing his thumb beneath hers so that it touched the sensitive skin of her palm ever so gently. She turned to him slowly, her gaze catching his as the two sat in silence, his eyes so sure, so confident, as they looked at her with an eager tenderness.

“You know,” She broke the silence with a laugh, her gaze dropping as her cheeks flushed bright red. “I think I know your secret.”

“Secret?” He asked, using his free hand to raise her chin so that her gaze once again met his.

“Get a drink down you, and you become the most charming man in Thedas,” She whispered her words, there was no need to talk loud now that their faces were only inches apart, their lips so close to touching that one could feel the others breath on their skin.

“Is it the drink?” He asked quietly, before he closed the gap between them with his lips, which brushed against her own so softly that she hardly felt it and, when he pulled away, she was left wanting more. “Or is it you?”

Their kiss this time wasn’t soft, or gentle, it was strong, fierce, laden with a passion as strong as a raging fire which left her, once again, wanting more, so much more.


	5. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Retreating to the privacy of her home, the date continues well into the night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning for explicit sexual content

“Should we go back to mine?” 

Whether it was the wine, or the atmosphere of the whole, spectacular evening, or something else entirely, something had made her say those words. They were words that a sensible Amelie, an Amelie who wasn’t drunk and giddy and entranced by the airs of a handsome stranger, would never have uttered. And so the silence that followed was nothing short of painful to her.

It was his face too, his eyes wide with shock, his mouth agape as words failed to summon themselves upon his scarred lips. But then he said something unexpected. More unexpected even, than the words that had come out of her own mouth seconds before.

“Yes, I would,” He said with the slightest hint of a smile, before his expression crumbled and the look of shock returned once again. “That is, if you want me to, I mean-”

“Come on,” She laughed, pulling herself to her feet where she wobbled ever so slightly beneath the tide of alcohol that surged to her brain. But all she could do was giggle even more. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want you to come.”

She held her hand out to him as he launched himself to his feet with such speed that the glass of wine almost went flying off of the table. “I’ll just pay first.” He told her, but all she did was shake her head.

“We’ll go halves,” She told him, already fishing through her handbag to find her purse. “It wouldn’t be fair for you to pay for it all.”

It was probably a mistake, offering to pay for half of their drinks when he had seemed so eager to pay, and it was likely a mistake that would make her bank account groan with displeasure once it saw what she had done. But it was worth it. She was giddy with excitement, revelling in the unending bliss she had felt since Cullen had first turned up on her doorstep that evening all the way through to that fateful kiss beneath the warm rays of the setting sun. 

She had never felt so warm, so happy, so content, as she did with him. She had never had a first date before, after all. One of the worst things the Circle robbed you of was life’s unique experiences. But now, she was free to fall for as many handsome strangers as she pleased, go on as many dates as she wanted, live the life of a young single woman in the cosmopolitan capital of Val Royeaux. Now, she was free, Now, she could live.

And there was nothing that made her feel more alive than the taste of his lips on hers. Lips tinged by the bitter tang of red wine and scarred by a strange jagged line that tore through his skin and gave his lips a unique, crooked smile. She had kissed people before, of course, how could you not when the Circle’s offered little else for entertainment. But whether it was the alcohol, or that smile, or the ferocity with which his kiss tore through her heart and pressed her against the back of her door within seconds of it slamming shut. 

She was trapped beneath the weight of his desire, but no complaints passed her lips, no protestations. She only encouraged, and encouraged, until her teasing grasp upon his hand led him up the stairs and to her bedroom, the pair dancing up the winding stairs with a spring in their step and childish grins upon their wine flushed faces. 

Her free hand went to turn the handle on the door to her bedroom, opening the creaking wooden door with an enthusiasm that almost caused it to fall off of its hinges. But then her eyes cast over an object in the centre of the room, one which had been dropped carelessly in the centre of her bed, discarded by the eager hands which had held it in such awe not so long before.

_Oh, Dagna_.

She slammed the door in front of her, and behind her, she felt Cullen jump out of his skin.

“Maker!” He cried as she felt his hand slip from her grasp. “What’s wrong? If you’ve changed your mind, I can always-”

“No!” She said quickly, whirling round with such speed that she almost waltzed right into him as he stood with his face only inches from hers, his scarred lips hovering above her as he bore into her with eyes that shone with just the slightest hint of honey coloured gold. “Sorry, I just…” Her eyes fell from his, her palms sweating ever so slightly as they grasped hold of the doorknob behind her back. “Could you get the condoms from the bathroom?”

“Oh, sure,” He said, turning towards the door which she pointed to in earnest with an air of reluctance. Not that she needed them, of course, but he didn’t need to know that. What she did need, though, is time. And she didn’t have much of it.

She threw the staff into her wardrobe and moved to jam the doors shut. But, of course, the Maker was playing games with her and, in her panic, the doors simply wouldn’t shut no matter how hard she tried, no matter how much brute force she put into it. She tried throwing her coat over it, but the lump poking out from beneath the sleeve looked far too inconspicuous. Then came her shoes, her tights, her scarf, until all that was left was the dress that she had so carefully picked out for this special night. But whether it was simply her paranoia that drove her to believe that the shape of the staff was still visible beneath the pile, or her drunken brain playing games with her, she had no idea. 

But whatever it was, it drove her to do something crazy. Whatever it was, made her take off the dress she was wearing, and everything else too, until she was naked. And she sat, and she waited, until a quick glance in the mirror made her decide that the small lights beside her bed would be better suited than the one which shone down on her with such an interrogative stare. And then she sat again, and she waited.

Should she lie down like those lingerie models did? No, she was being silly now.

She sat, and she waited. And then the door opened.

She wasn’t the only one who had prepared themselves for this, she could tell. His hair was different, more tussled. His jacket had been discarded, the top buttons of his shirt undone. And there was something different about those honey coloured eyes, something that gave him a sense of purpose, determination. He stared at her, watched her, scanned every inch of her as he came to stand at the foot of the bed. She stiffened slightly beneath the harshness of his stare, squirmed even, her eyes falling to stare at the shadows behind him.

But there was nothing harsh about the way he held her, the way his hand moved to caress the soft skin of her cheek, the way his thumb traced along the freckle covered that led to the roots of her flaming red hair. Everything was soft, and gentle. Yet, behind it all, she could feel how determined he was to jump that last hurdle, cross that chasm that existed between them, take the last step, the leap of faith. But something was holding him back. Nerves, she suspected. 

So she took that step for him. She thanked the Maker for granting her her Father’s height and broad frame as she sat with her head standing only inches below his and she pulled him towards her until his lips crashed against her own.

And their fate was sealed. She had taken that first step, but a boldness had come over him driven, perhaps, by her own enthusiasm. Or by alcohol. But what did it matter? All that mattered was what has happening now, in this moment. All that mattered was that she had met a man who wanted her, desired her, who kissed her in a way that she had never been kissed before.

Nothing was important to her now, except for this, except for him and the way he held her. Because she had never been treated like this before, not in those secret kisses in the Circle or those awkward moment of passion stolen in the dead of night while the Templar’s slacked off of the duties. No one had ever held her with such intensity, no one had ever kissed the areas of her body that she scarcely knew existed, no one had ever dared to look into her emerald green eyes even pleasure washed over them so that that pleasure mixed with an intensity that she had never experienced. So that, when they had both finished, and time itself had trickled slowly to a stop around them, she felt more exhausted than she had ever been.

But eventually, after what felt like an eternity of panting breaths and exhausted sighs, the seconds slowly began to tick by and time started to pass normally once again. Cullen heaved himself off of her bed and left her room in search of the bathroom, and Amelie was left alone. All was as it should be. Everything had returned to normal. 

Except, had it?

She sat herself upright on the bed and wrapped one of her fluffy blankets around her shivering form, tucking her tangled hair behind her ear as she stared into the darkness of her room, silent, alone. But then a noise from the bathroom made her jerk her head towards the door in alarm, where a warm light shone into the darkened room and reminded her that she was very much not alone, that he was still here.

Her perception of what was normal was beginning to change. When Cullen came back into the room and joined her on the bed, his cold hand coming to rest on her shuddering shoulders, she realised just how foreign that loneliness had become. Once, she had revelled in it. But now, she found herself smiling amidst the warmth of his honey coloured gaze that brought light to darkness that had plagued her solitary world.

They crawled into bed, swapping the cold of her room for the warmth that her thick sheets promised them. And with another smile, and a kiss, and the wrapping of his arms around her, they fell asleep, and she dreamt of the sea, and wine, and Cullen.


	6. Another Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up next to a handsome lover isn't quite so bad as waking up next to a handsome stranger, but there's still the gossiping and giggling of her colleagues to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be the next to be edited!!

A shrill, high pitched ringing cut through her dreams and woke her with a start, her eyes wide with fear as her heart raced. Looking around her bedroom with earnest, she searched frantically for the source, her eyes darting around the sunlit room, before eventually falling on her phone which vibrated on her night stand, the screen lighting up viciously. 

“Is that your alarm?” Cullen asked beside her, his words stifled by a low moan as he struggled against the throes of sleep. 

“No,” She sighed. Shushing him with an element of desperation, she grabbed the phone answering it with some speed and earning them a brief second of blissful peace. “What is it?” She mumbled into the phone.

“Hey, that's no way to speak to your brother,” Lionel cried down the phone, his voice far too loud for her delicate ears. “I just wanted to speak to you.”

“At 6am?” She asked, her voice shrill but heavy with sleep. Next to her, Cullen rose from the bed, pulling on her onesie and dragging his feet as he wondered out of her room. 

“I thought you'd be getting up for work,” Her brother said sheepishly. 

“Not for another hour!” She cried, looking at her watch with despair. “Why are you up anyway, you only work for our dad.”

“Yeah, well, I didn't actually go to sleep last night,” He said slowly. She could hear the fatigue in his voice, the way in which each word was pronounced with care, slowly and deliberately. “We finalised our divorce yesterday.”

“Oh, shit, that sucks,” She said quietly, as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty shit,” He told her solemnly. “I was going to ask if I could come and visit, maybe Saturday?”

“Yeah, sure,” She said, just as Cullen decided to re-enter her room smelling of tobacco. He laughed at her scrunched up face, stripping off the onesie and coming to sit next to her with eager eyes. “I'll get you from the airport.”

“Great,” He said, as Cullen began to stroke her skin with his cold hand, forcing her to hold back her indignation. “I'll let you know when I book my flight.”

“Yeah, just text me,” She said, wincing slightly as Cullen turned not just to kisses, but love bites upon her exposed chest. “Sorry, I need to get going, I'd better start getting ready for work.” She said between stifled laughs.

“I guess I should get some sleep,” He sighed, just as she elicited a very different kind of sigh as she felt Cullen move south, abandoning her chest and moving to her stomach, her pelvis, her- “I'll speak to you later.” She slammed the phone down on the nightstand just as his lips had begun to caress her clitorous, sending shockwaves of desire through her entire body, her head thrown back as her spine arched, lifting off of the soft bed as the pleasure grew.

“Cullen!” She cried between gasps for air, her voice half laden with passion, half with sincerity. “That was my brother!”

“I know,” He said with a sly smile as he lifted his head from between her thighs. “He shouldn't have woken me up.” He smiled at her again with crooked lips and eyes wide with his untamed desire, before diving back into his conquest, his tongue taking over this time as it slid inside her.

“Maker…” She sighed, her cares slipping away with ease as he continued his work. “You're so so bad.”

“I like being bad,” His voice was muffled as he spoke against her skin, his warm breath tickling her, causing her to erupt in a fit of giggles.

“You know what,” She rose off of the bed, bringing her face towards his as he remained between her legs, looking up at her with wide, desperate eyes. “I think I like you staying round.”

“Good,” He said, drawing himself closer to her and kissing her firmly, the two locking their lips for some time as she took in his smell, his taste, an intermingle of tobacco, sweat, and the faintest hint of a musky earth smell that could only be his own. 

“But!” She interrupted, placing a finger on his soft lips. “I need to get ready for work.”

“Can't we call in sick?” He asked, his voice sullen as he spoke with pouting lips and a furrowed brow. 

“No,” She said firmly, taking his face in her hands. “And don't you need to get back to your dog?”

“Yes, fuck!” He cried, jumping off of the bed and grabbing his clothes in a flurry. “I can't believe I forgot, he's going to be sulking all day now.” Fastening the buttons of shirt with lightning speed, he dressed himself quickly, and it was a sight for her to watch. He'd looked so handsome last night, and the one before, but now he looked dishevelled, with his shirt hanging out of his trousers and his hair sticking up in untamed curls. But there was something about it which made her breath catch and her eyes wander, down the line of buttons on the shirt, which looked somewhat wonky, down to the loosely fastened trousers and the white shirt which hung out the top of them, down-

“Amelie?” She jumped, her mind racing back to reality. “Thank you for last night.”

“Of course,” She smiled, her gaze dropping as she fought to hide the tide of red which glowed beneath the skin on her cheeks. “Thank you for being such a wonderful date.” 

He didn't give her a response, at least not a verbal one. Instead, he watched her as he finished dressing with eyes as golden as the purest honey, his lips stretched into a crooked smile. That was until he crossed the room slowly, his eyes fixed on her, his face stern, as he came to her, towering over as she sat undressed. He stretched out his hands, holding her head between them as he gazed at her beneath loose strands of tousled hair.

“Maker, I was lucky to have met you,” He sighed, his words as smooth as silk as he looked at her with wonder, care, desire. All she could think was that it was _her_ who was the lucky one. “When can I see you again?” He asked gently. 

“I don't know,” She said with an air of sadness. “I'm actually kind of busy this week.”

“You won't be at the bar Friday?” He asked her, his lips pouting as his fingers massaged the skin on her face.

“I might be,” She pondered but, before she could think on it further, she got interrupted by the weight of his lips pressing against hers with a tenderness she had begun to recognise. 

“I'll see you Friday,” He said as he pulled away, before he hurried out of the door to her bedroom, pausing only briefly at the doorway to give her one final smile, before he was gone. But she dared not move until she heard the front door slam, rooting herself to the bed until she heard the bang of the front door echo around her house. That's when she broke into a smile, a ridiculous, childish smile that lit up her whole face as if she were 5 and her parents had taken her into a shop filled with sweets. 

The smiled stayed on as she made her bed, wolfed down her granola, and stepped into the shower with just under one hour until her bus was due. It was more than enough time, but she needed it. Once she was in the shower, with the warm water trickling down upon her, she felt all the bliss from the night before descend upon her at once. She could see the marks left on her skin, feel the burning emptiness where his fingers had been, taste the sweetness of his lips on her own even as the water ran over them.

It was a shame to step out from under the warm water, but time caught up on her, as it always did. She quickly dried herself off, fighting against the cold as she hurried to pull on her clothes and began to blast her hair with the warm air from her dryer. It was as she was doing this that she noticed just how far up he had travelled with his passionate bites. She let out a moan of despair, there was no way she could go into work like this, she could imagine her colleagues having a field day when they spotted that poking out her her collar.

With a sigh, she pulled down the collar of her white shirt and placed her palm over the bruised skin. The warmth spread through her in an instant, not only soothing her, but healing her, the bruised skin turning from purple, to yellow, to its usual white. It was cheating, but it was better than leaving it there and facing the ire of her colleagues. Being a mage came with some benefits.

Looking at herself one more time, she couldn't help but notice the smile that lingered upon her lips, the corners of her mouth twisting her mouth into a forbidden grin, one which stayed on her for most of the morning, the walk, the bus journey, even as she strode through the university corridors towards her office. It didn't go unnoticed, either.

“Hey you!” Josephine cried as they crossed each other in the hallway, her eyes twinkling with delight as she looked her up and down. “I'd love to hear all about last night, but we've got a union situation.” She said rolling her eyes. “We'll catch up Friday, Ok?”

“Sure, good luck,” She said as Josephine hurried past, breathing a sigh of relief as she saw the empty path to her office ahead of her. But her safety was short lived. Almost as soon as she logged into her computer, an email notification flashed before her eyes, the name ‘Dorian’ drawing her attention. The email was one sentence long, and wasn't even signed, reading simply:

_Get to the archives or I'm coming up._

And there it was, her worst nightmare, or close to it. He had been the one person she hadn't told, for various reasons, mainly because she'd rather no one at the university know what she did in her spare time, or who, for that matter. But then maybe he didn't, maybe this was...a work issue. She had borrowed some transcripts she should have returned by now.

With her transcripts in hand, she marched out of her office and through the hallways of the humanities building, stopping once when Solas passed her asking where she was off to. “Just the archives,” she said over her shoulder, her eyes fixed on the world ahead of her, the bustling students and chattering professors disappearing into a blur around her as she continued her march towards the library. 

Once again, the library was packed full of students, all minding their own business with their heads in books or staring blankly at computer screens, with the odd one falling asleep in their mug of coffee, of course. There was something about the atmosphere in this place, this space of learning and academia, that was unlike any other, and Dorian exhibited a lot of that energy. His passion for the written word, his great mind filled with history and magical theory, and his irritating need to know everything about everyone else.

“Good night last night?” He asked, twirling his moustache as he sat behind his desk in the university archive, his feet resting on the desktop as he reclined in his chair. 

“Seems like you already know the answer,” She told him, leaning over the desk and resting her chin on her hand as she dropped her transcripts on the desk in front of him. 

“Leliana was in here half an hour ago,” He told her, his dark eyes twinkling as he smiled a sly smile. “Why didn't you tell me you'd scored a date?”

“Because you're a pain in the ass,” She laughed quietly. “Can I return these too, before I get a fine?”

“Not until you tell me everything,” He said, leaning forward in his chair. “What does he look like?”

“He's blonde, tall, _strong,_ ” Her lips stretching into a smile on the word _strong_ , and her gaze dropping from his as she remembered the way he looked this morning, with the morning sun reflecting off of the curves of his body.

“Strong?” He asked, his moustache twitching as his smile widened beneath it, showing rows of perfect sparkling white teeth. “Mentally, physically, _both_?”

“All three,” She told him eagerly. “He's in the army.”

“Does he have army friends?” Dorian asked quickly, his left eyebrow raising with intrigue.

“You would have met them if you'd been at the bar last week,” She scolded him, feigning her disdain as her friend sat in front of her looking far too pleased with himself. “If you come _this_ Friday, my new friend will be there and _maybe_ he will bring his friends too.”

“I might,” He mused, his hands instinctively moving to brush his moustache. “I’m a busy person though.”

“No you’re not!” She scoffed, her eyes moving to the desk where an abandoned crossword puzzle lay. “How long have you been working on that?” She asked with a smirk, nodding to the half completed puzzle.

“Alright, I get you’re point,” He said with a sigh, shrugging his shoulders. “I guess I’ll see your Friday then?” He asked her as he tried to hide a smile, before his face fell into concern once again. “Please tell me he will actually be there.”

“Of course,” She said confidently, pulling her phone from her coat pocket. “I’ll message him now.” 

“If he isn’t I’m not coming,” He said with an air of agitation, as she quickly sent a text before she could wonder what she was thinking or why she was doing this. She could guarantee this would make her look very desperate. “And he’d better be bringing his friends.”

“Alright, I’m sure he will!” She cried, rolling her eyes. “I actually have to get some work done today, you know,”

“You work here?” He asked, his tone sarcastic and his words underlined with an irritating smirk. 

“Fuck off,” She said nonchalantly as she turned to walk away, throwing an exasperated glance over her shoulder. “See you Friday.”

“See you Friday!” He called after her as she walked briskly past the rows of desks and the towering shelves filled with books, old and new, large leather bound volumes next to small pamphlets on current affairs. All was quiet around her, bar the low level chatter of students or the beeping of check out machines. So, when her phone buzzed, it was as if a raging hoard of Qunari had announced their arrival. Quickly, she pulled it out of her pocket, her face flushing red as the people around her glared at her with venomous eyes. 

All she saw was the name, Cullen, and the first few words of the message: ‘sounds great’, but it was enough to make her blush in earnest, her heart pounding in her chest as she clutched the phone, forcing herself not to smile like a schoolgirl. And yet she couldn’t resist, he just had that effect on her, and it has been so long since anyone had made her feel that way.

She couldn’t wait for Friday.

 


	7. A Now Typical Friday Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a week since Amelie first walked into that bar and found herself in the company of a stranger, and now she's returning, her friends desperate to catch a glimpse of the man himself now that Satinalia, and the infamous New Years ball, draws ever closer.

It was possibly one of the worst kind of days to be trudging through the shopping centre at the Old Market Square. The sun had refused to show its face, hiding behind a thick veil of grey clouds and plunging the world into a semi-darkness, which only closed in with more ferocity now that the days were passing, and time edged ever closer to Satinalia. It was cold, dark, and each shop they entered made her feel more tired than before, the racks of formal dresses blurring into a cacophony of vibrant colour.

“It’s great having her here,” Amelie heard Leliana muse from the shop floor as she pulled the purple dress her two friends had picked out over her body in the confined changing room, trying hard to avoid hitting her arm on the mirror next to her. “I just sit there on Friday’s having a snooze while she does my work for me,”

“Oh, that’s mean,” Josephine cooed, her words as smooth as golden honey, as usual. She always said things in the most charming way possible. “I’m sure she does a good job.”

“Well there wasn’t too much of an attendance drop this week,” Leliana said nonchalantly. “Actually, there were people there I hadn’t seen in weeks.”

“See, no need to be mean,” Josephine said, her voice stern this time, but still silky smooth. 

“And, well,” Leliana said in a breezy tone. “She can’t help it that the content is boring.”

“You know I can hear everything you guys are saying?” She asked accusingly, shouting through the door to the changing room at the two women. 

“Oh, just hurry up!” Josephine cried, sounding startled. “We have places to be!”

“We’re all going to the same place,” She said, as she opened the door in front of her, the bright lights of the shop floor blinding her momentarily as she stepped out in front of the two women, who went from looking bored and playing with their manicured nails, to staring at her agape, their eyes wide and their lips parted. “That has to be it.”

“I honestly didn’t expect _purple_ to be your colour,” Leliana said. “I think it’s the silver detail that makes it.”

Turning to the mirror behind them, she looked at herself, her body draped in a soft purple fabric which extended down the curves of her body to her feet, hugging tightly around her waist, but cascading down her legs in a loose fitting skirt which made her look as if she were floating. Leliana was right, purple had never been her colour, but the glittering silver which lined her neckline and descended to her waist, appearing as a climbing wallflower up a pristine white wall. 

“You know, this will do,” She told them with a smile, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror one more time.

“I should think so,” Josephine scoffed. “You look great. And also it’s getting late and I’m hungry.”

“Are you just saying all this so we can go home?” She asked her, her hands falling onto her hips. 

“No, honest,” Josephine answered, her voice once again as sweet as honey. “It does have the mask on the hanger, yes?”

“Yes,” She replied, making her way back into the tiny changing room. “Is it that important?”

“Well, yes!” Josephine said enthusiastically, with Leliana next to her echoing the empathic cry of ‘yes!’. “Otherwise everyone will know who’s kissing who?”

“What?” She cried, poking her head back out from the door of the changing room. “Kissing?”

“Yes…” Leliana said slowly. “That’s kind of the whole point. Kissing at midnight.”

“We’re not all getting action, Amelie,” Josephine said rolling her eyes. “Some of us look forward to the prospect of handsome strangers kissing us in a socially acceptable situation.”

“And that’s also the point,” Leliana interjected, as Amelie closed the changing room door behind her, scrambling to take the dress off. “Your friend isn’t going to know you’re off kissing strangers either.”

“Well we’re not actually together,” She shouted through the closed door as she fought with her clothes. “I mean, it’s not official or anything,”

“So it’s just sex?” Leliana asked, far too loudly, earning a cry of indignation from Josephine. 

“I don’t feel like discussing my sex life in the middle of a formal dress shop,” She said, poking her head out from behind the door once again. “And I don’t know, to be honest.”

“You don’t know?” Leliana scoffed, crossing her arms as she leaned against the mirror she had looked through not long ago. 

“We’ll find out tonight anyway, Leliana,” Josephine said with a devious air. 

“Oh great,” Amelie sighed as she gathered her things, and plucked her new dress off of the the wall, the accompanying mask hanging off of its hanger, taunting her with its promise of mysterious, shadowy, romance. Except, well, could that be any better than what she had now? Was her life not already romantic? 

“Don’t worry we’ll be good!” Josephine promised as she quickly paid for her new items, feeling a strange form of pain as she waved her card over the machine and almost saw her bank account shy away in horror. “Come on, let’s get food, I’m _starving_.”

“Actually, I’ll meet you later,” She told them as they left the store, her eyes spotting a bus approaching the nearby bus stop. “I want to drop my stuff off and get ready for later.”

“Oh, of course,” Leliana said, giving Josephine a nudge with her elbow. “She needs to _get ready_.”

“I don’t even want to know what you’re insinuating,” She sighed as she approached the bus stop, taking one last look at the two of them before boarding the bus. “I’ll see you there.”

“Sure you will,” Leliana said, followed by a round of giggling from the both of them. Thankfully, the driver slammed the doors shut almost as soon as she showed her ticket, and they were able to drive away from the giggling girls and retreat back to the safety of her home. Although now she was alone, all she could think about was this ball, this event which seemed to be such a huge deal and that, according to Josephine, _everyone_ goes to. 

So did that mean he was going to be there? Would he see her in her new dress and her ridiculous mask, spot her across the dance floor and capture her at the toll of midnight in one of those passionate kisses she was getting so used to? Or, more likely, would he see her being kissed by someone else? Or would she see _him_ getting kissed by someone else?

She had to forget about it, push it out of her mind and focus on the present, focus on getting herself ready for tonight. Last time they’d gone to the _Golden Lion_ , she’d hardly even bothered, falling into her usual routine of taking her hair out of its ponytail and changing into less formal clothes. But this was different. In just the space of a week, she was in a much more exciting place in her life. She was in that part of a relationship which was so exciting, an adventure of sorts, which not only sent her heart aflutter, but also brought a smile to her face at almost every instance. The thought of being there, and knowing that he will be too, it was enough to send her crazy.

That’s why, when she entered her house and retreated to her bedroom, she found herself taking much more care than the week before. Her hair she made sleek and silky, glowing a brilliant burnt red as it fell just below her shoulders. Her eyes she framed with a soft black, her lips she painted with a bright red, in between taking bites of a prepared dinner of course. It was like she was going on a date again, it almost was. Except she had to keep telling herself that it was casual, she was with friends, nothing could happen between her and Cullen tonight.

But even though she knew full well that that was the case, just knowing that he would be there, looking at her, taking in every inch of her in the blue, low cut dress she had chosen specially for tonight, it made her ache with uncontrollable excitement.

She was so excited, in fact, that she almost forgot about the dress, lying abandoned on her bed still folded in its paper bag, the mask lying gingerly on top. With a sigh, she pulled it out in front of her, looking at it once again with a more critical lens. Had she taken a risk? With her tall and broad frame, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to be so...noticeable? And it was long, she’d have to wear heels with it, which was an even worse prospect. Oh, Maker, she was a fool to think she’d find _anything_ she’d actually wear.

The gentle ring of her doorbell forced her to abandon the dress once again, although this time she had the sense to hang it on the outside of her wardrobe. She’d almost forgotten about Dorian, who had shown up looking very smartly dressed, although in his usual, slightly hipster, style, accompanied by a waistcoat which almost matched his obnoxious moustache ,curled to perfection, as usual. 

“Ready to go?” He asked her as he stood on her doorstep, his shoulders hunched as his hands disappeared into his coat pockets, his mouth barely visible as he shoved his chin into his scarf. “It’s freezing out here.”

“It is not!” She scoffed, pulling on her black coat and grabbing her handbag before slamming the door shut behind her. “Anyone would think you lot in Tevinter were a bunch of whiny bats or something.”

“Well at least it’s _warm_ in Tevinter,” He told her as he eagerly watched her lock the door, urging her to begin their short walk to the now infamous bar.

“Stop moaning!” She cried as she led him down the path and onto the street, which was crowded with revellers just like themselves. He continued his moaning for most of the journey, it was the cold, or the litter on the streets, or her inability to drive which had led them to walk the cold streets. So much so, that she soon drifted off to other world's, world's which contained handsome blonde men hovering over her in her silky purple dress, lips too close for comfort, eyes locked onto hers, whispers in the dark. It was only when Dorian called out to her that she reluctantly turned to reality.

“Hey, is that him?” He asked, nodding to the street in front of them, where a familiar looking blonde stood next to an unfamiliar, but handsome, man with brown hair and what looked like either strange facial hair or strange tattoos. They leaned against the wall to the bar, illuminated by the glowing golden light which shone from the entrance, appearing to her as beings of divinity, basking in a holy golden glow. “Oh and he _did_ bring a friend.”

“Happy now?” She asked Dorian as they approached the two men, whose eyes had wandered over to the two of them. “Good evening,” She addressed the two men, her own eyes falling on Cullen. 

“You've brought a friend,” He nodded to Dorian beside her, who appeared to be eyeing up the two men in front of him with earnest.

“I hope you don’t mind,” She said, flashing him a smile, before rushing to give him an explanation as to why she brought a well dressed stranger to the bar. “This is Dorian,” She said gesturing to him. “He’s a friend from work.”

“Nice to meet you,” Cullen said politely. “I think some of your other work friends are inside already,” 

“Oh no, are they?” She asked him, rubbing her temples with her fingers. “Have they embarrassed me yet?”

“Not yet,” He laughed, his eyes narrowing as he stared down at her. After a few brief seconds, the man next to him coughed rather obnoxiously, forcing Cullen to come out of his short trance and gesticulate to his companion. “This is Rylen by the way.”

“Good to meet you,” Rylen said with a thick accent she recognised as deriving from the Free Marches. “I hear you’re a Trevelyan. I’m from Starkhaven, myself, but I always admired Ostwick.”

“I’ve never had the pleasure of visiting Starkhaven,” She told him, her eyes falling onto Cullen next to him who looked as if he had begun to regret bringing his fairly attractive friend. She picked up on his queue fairly quickly, and became suddenly aware of Dorian staring at the two men as if he were looking at a work of art. “It’s nice to meet you, but we should be finding our friends.” She said quickly, throwing the two men a smile, lingering slightly longer on Cullen than she did Rylen, of course. “You’ll meet us in there, right?” She asked, staring at Cullen intently.

“Of course we will,” He responded with earnest, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “We’ll be with you soon.”

“Great, see you soon,” She said with a smile, dragging Dorian inside the bar before he could embarass her. She would have slapped him if they hadn’t been beckoned over by Josephine and Leliana, who sat proudly in front of a cluster of golden coloured drinks in tiny shot glasses.

“Great, you’re here!” Josephine cried, pulling them over to the empty barstools next to them. “We didn’t want to start without you.” She said pointing to the drinks in front of her. “I can’t believe they have this here, it’s Antivan-”

“Oh no,” Amelie interrupted, her eyes darting from the golden liquid which now looked threatening, and the Antivan woman who apparently seemed far too pleased with herself.

“Oh yes!” She said, her eyes twinkling with excitement as she passed her one of the glasses. “Drink up, new girl.”

And she did. One drink. Two drinks. Three drinks down, and the night began to evolve into a carnival of revelry. Josephine had bumped into her publisher, a dwarven man who for some reason couldn’t keep his shirt buttoned up to a reasonable standard, and was chattering excitedly, or arguing, she couldn’t tell. Leliana had found a stranger at the bar and was showing them numerous photos of her nugs on her phone, her voice getting louder with each new photo. Dorian had found another stranger, who looked elven in stature, who he was clearly working his way around, buying drinks and looking intent and incredibly interested in the conversation. 

Amelie, however, watched all this from a short distance. Having been claimed by her new friend, she found herself sat with a group of men and women who were intent and getting to know everything about her, probing the girl who had wooed their commander. But she was careful, there was no way she’d give up her past when Seeker Cassandra, Right Hand of the Divine herself, was sat right there, listening to every word and every syllable.

That would be why she had the fourth drink. At the fourth, Josephine had escalated her conversation into a full blown argument. Leliana had moved onto discussing the long departed Schmooples, a gift from the Warden herself and her first nug, she’d learnt all this from the very loud sentences which wormed their way out of her between fits of crying. Dorian had gotten somewhere at least, he was happily fawning over the elven man, planting gentle kisses on his cheek, brushing hair out of his face, tracing a thumb over his vallaslin. 

That wasn’t so different to where she was now. She’d ended up on Cullen’s lap, somehow, watching him play Wicked Grace so badly that she had to compensate his losses with mournful looks, brushes of her hand on his skin, kisses on his cheek, so much so that he didn’t even seem to mind that he’d lost not just a good deal of money, but also his pride. Still, she didn’t mind him losing, not if it gave her an excuse to kiss him again.

She’d brought him the next drink, and that’s how she ended up with her fifth. Josephine’s publisher had left, and she was comforting Leliana, who had been left with her head against the bar wallowing in a pile of tears as she grieved for Schmooples. Dorian had disappeared with his new friend, reappearing some time later as he burst through the toilet doors looking very pleased with himself. 

Cullen had a similar look to him. He had eventually won a hand of Wicked Grace but, she presumed, they had allowed him to win simply because they all wanted to go home. But she could tell he was eager to leave too. His hands had begun to roam, falling not just on her back, but all over her hips, her thighs, which, combined with the alcohol, made her flushed with the promise of passion. With almost everyone gone, she didn’t have to be embarrassed, or reserved, not anymore. Instead she turned to him, looking down at his beautifully carved face as he returned her gaze, his eyes warm and eager as they locked onto hers, watching her carefully as they leaned closer and closer, so close that their lips simply had to meet, locked in an arena of desire as her heart pounded in her chest. Everytime they were together, everytime they laid eyes on one another, they ended up locked up in one another’s embrace, drawn to the other with something invisible, something unexplainable. Sat on his lap, in a bar which was slowly emptying around them as her body swam with alcohol she possibly should not have drunk, she found herself falling for him once again, pulled to him and his charm, his smile, his breathtaking good looks, and she did nothing to stop it. She didn’t want to.

She never had a sixth drink.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I feel like we're plodding through a lot of build up right now but everything will come together eventually and I am very excited for it so hang in there!


	8. The Radiator Repair Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelie has her brother visiting, but first she has to get Cullen out of her house.

A number of things threatened to wake her, cutting through the throes of sleep and invading her dreams: the whine of a dog, the shift of the mattress, the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut, and then closing again five minutes later. None of this concerned her, or not enough to wake her, anyway. What woke her, on this chilly Saturday morning, was the heaving of the mattress once again, as a heavy weight descended with earnest onto the bed beside her, followed by the feeling of cold skin enveloping her entire body as icy arms wrapped themselves around her.

“Maker, you’re freezing!” She cried, her voice raspy, a combined effect of the alcohol and the remnants of sleep.

“I had to let the dog out,” Cullen said softly, his voice quiet as he spoke against the skin on the back of her neck. “Thanks for letting me bring him here. He hated me after I left him alone that night.”

“We could have just stayed at yours,” She sighed, her eyes fluttering to a close once again.

“It would have been warmer at mine,” Cullen complained as she felt him shiver against her. “And I live closer.”

“Well you wanted to come here,” She told him, turning to look into his weary eyes. Behind him, she saw his dog, Leo, slumped on the bed with his head leaning against Cullen’s back. 

“Your house is better than mine,” Cullen admitted, his eyes locked onto hers as he began to stroke the skin on her arm. “Your bed is so comfy and you have all these nice fluffy blankets.” He nodded his head towards the fluffy, faux fur blanket on top of their duvet and the red one which had been claimed by Leo, and was now most likely covered in his slobber. “Oh and I loved wearing your onesie last time.”

“Maybe you should get yourself one then,” She said with a laugh, earning a smile from him in response. “I thought it suited you.”

“Do you think I should?” He asked, sounding far too excited. “Maybe I could get one for Satinalia.”

“Is that a hint?” She questioned him as she looked at him with a wide smile, her eyes fixed upon his. 

“Maybe,” He whispered, drawing himself closer to her until their lips met in a gentle brush of soft pink lips against soft pink lips. “But I have everything I need here.”

“You're so cheesey,” She threw the accusation at him between kisses, her words cutting through the flurry with a teasing air. But he ignored her; instead his kisses became more fervent, coupled with the brush of fingers against her skin as his hand roamed her body with earnest, and the feeling of something hard pressing against her thigh. “You know we don't have time for that, right?” She scolded him, pulling her lips away from his.

“Are you sure?” He asked her, his eyes revealing his kindled desire. “We could be quick.”

“No!” She cried, batting his chest playfully with her hand. “I have to meet my brother in two hours.”

“That's plenty of time,” Cullen assured her with a soothing voice and a gentle expression.

“By the time you've gone, no it isn't,” She said, causing him to roll off of her with a sulk.

“Can't I stay here all day?” He moaned, looking back at her with big, sad eyes that mirrored the ones his dog would wear when he wanted food. “Your brother won't mind, will he?”

“Probably not, no,” She mused. “But I will. I'm not having that conversation yet.”

“Oh well,” He sighed, rising up off the bed before shivering dramatically. “Maker, at least my house is warm. Is this your thing, you like it being cold?”

“I'm used to it,” She told him with a shrug. “Heating doesn't really work.”

“And you're ok with that?” He asked her, looking over at her with a bemused expression as his dog sat himself in his lap. “You never thought to fix it?”

“I don't know how,” She shrugged again, sitting herself up to join him in the cold morning air and being greeted by an arm around her shoulders and a sniff from the dog.. “I guess I could call someone.” He sighed at that, and she felt his whole body heave with the effort as his eyes fell on her with an exasperated look. 

“I’ll look at it,” He said, sighing again as she shivered beneath his touch. “You can’t live like this, it will start snowing soon and then you’ll really feel the cold.” He drew her closer to her so that her head fell beneath his chin, resting on the warm skin of his exposed chest. He draped his arm over her, holding her tight and protecting her from the bitter chill as it were a physical entity come to claim her personally. “I’ll be over later.”

“Later?” She cried, looking up at him with desperate eyes. “My brother will be here.”

“I’m coming over to fix your heating, not have sex with you,” He laughed, the sound of crystalline laughter and the rumble of his chest warming her heart far more than a functioning heating system ever could. “Just say I’m...a neighbour, or a friend, I don’t know.”

“Alright,” She sighed, pulling away from him his gentle embrace to gather up her clothes. “Just try and be casual about it, I don’t want my family getting involved.”

“You don’t tell them all about your sex life then?” He asked her with a cheeky smile, his eyes lighting up as they watched her dress. 

“No, I don’t,” She said, looking at him with a mocking scowl. “I’ll tell them eventually, I mean, I’m meant to be going home next weekend anyway so it might slip out then.”

“Oh so I won’t see you next week?” He pouted, clutching the dog in his lap and burying his sulking face into the fur. 

“Well, just not at the weekend,” She said, her face glum as she began to tidy the room around him, throwing his clothes at him as he continued to sulk on the bed. “Anyway you need to get ready, I need to leave soon.”

“Alright, I will,” He sighed, pushing the dog off of his lap and clambering off of the bed, grabbing his clothes to dress himself in the process. “You know, it’s so cold in here, it makes me get dressed quicker. I guess that’s one bonus.”

“Stop moaning!” She cried, launching a pillow at him that she had grabbed off of the floor in her attempt to make the bed around his lazy dog. Cullen caught it with ease, giving her a quick, mischievous smile before launching it back at her with far better accuracy than she had exhibited and hitting her on the head. She threw him an indignant look, but all she got in response was a wink as he threw her a sly smile, his eyes fixed on her as his hands fastened the buttons of his shirt. 

“Maker, I wish I didn’t have to leave,” He sighed, his eyes continuing to stare into her own. 

“Me neither,” She said with a smile, her eyes dropping to stare at the floor as her face began to burn a brilliant red. 

“But,” He began, moving around the bed and approaching her slowly, his hands reaching out to caress her face as he towered over her, his fingers brushing against her blushing, freckled cheeks. “I’ll come back later, and I’ll get to see your beautiful face again,” He said, his voice soft and gentle. “Even if I have to pretend to be your friend.”

“I mean, you are my friend,” She told him with a trace of a smile and a hint of a laugh. “We just have sex too.”

“I don’t mind that,” He said, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on her cold lips, gracing her with the beautiful sensation of his lips against hers before pulling away again, his warm brown eyes looking into hers before roaming her face. She watched them flicker over her features, the curve of her lips, the freckles which littered her skin, the flaming red hair tucked behind her ears. And then his gaze fell over her shoulder, his eyes drawn to something beyond her, where her tall oak wardrobe loomed over her. “What’s that?”

She turned to look behind her and immediately saw what had drawn his gaze: the dress she had bought yesterday, hanging off of her wardrobe door where the sunlight reflected off of the silver detail which cascaded down the purple fabric. Her shoulders slumped as she sighed in relief, Maker knows she had far more incriminating things in that wardrobe. “That would be for the New Years ball,” She told him, her words underlined by the hint of relieved laughter. “Apparently everyone goes.”

“Yeah we have to,” He sighed next to her, drawing her attention back to him. “I hate it, normally. But it shouldn’t be so bad this year.”

“No?” She asked with a smile, her cheeks turning pink once again as he continued to caress her skin with the gentle brush of his fingers. 

“No,” He told her firmly, a small, wonky, smile flickering on his scarred lips, lips which came forward to kiss her once again, causing her heart to flutter in her chest as warmth spread throughout her body, gathering at the points where his body pressed against her own. “You’re sure we don’t have time?” He asked her between kisses, his words a whisper against her skin.

“I wish we did,” She replied, mirroring his whisper before instigating another kiss, a more reluctant, reserved kiss than before, forcing herself not to give into temptation, to keep her head, to not dive into the sea of passion against all logic. She was a logical person, she could keep a clear head, she always had done, except when she was with him.

 

\-----

“Wow, Maker, it is freezing in her!” Lionel shivered in the hallway to her home, his words cutting through the cold silence as she ushered him into her home. The skin on his face was almost as red as his well groomed beard, a victim of the bitter wind which had assailed them on their walk from the bus stop, a walk he grumbled about with earnest. “It also smells a bit like dog in here, what in the name of Andraste made you want to leave Ostwick and move here?”

“Oh I don’t know,” She began with a sarcastic tone, throwing her coat onto a hanger and walking through the living room, her brother following her at a considerable distance. “Probably the weight of the guilt from our uncle’s death, and the dodgy looks everyone in Ostwick used to give me everytime I left the house.”

“I know what you mean, actually,” He said as he surveyed her home, his eyes tracing every piece of furniture, every book on her shelf, every mark on her wall. “I’ve been getting that a lot since the divorce.”

“But they aren’t scared of you, that’s the difference,” She told him, as she flicked the kettle on. “Tea?” She asked him, rooting through her cupboards for biscuits.

“Yea, go on then,” He sighed, collapsing onto her sofa. “And no, they aren’t scared of me, they’re just judging me instead.”

“Oh, who cares!” She cried as she watched the tea brew, the water turning a dark brown as she munched on a biscuit. “I mean, you didn’t really choose to marry her.”

“No, I feel pretty bad though,” He sighed, leaning back onto her cushions and planting his feet on her coffee table. “I mean, I should have told her.”

“Yeah, but how do you do that?” She asked him, biscuit hanging out of her mouth as she brought their drinks over, placing them on the table next to his feet before collapsing on the sofa herself. 

“Well I should have done it _before_ the kids were born,” He sighed again, his eyes closing as he reclined on her sofa. “It’s not that I didn’t love her, I still do. And I love my sons so much. I just couldn’t keep leading her on like that, you know?”

“You need to stop feeling guilty,” She told him, offering him the packet of biscuits. “You can’t help being gay. Our parents should have realised they couldn’t just marry you off and hope it goes away.”

“That’s their whole philosophy though, isn’t it?” He scoffed, throwing a biscuit into his mouth. “Oh we won’t tell the Templar’s about little Amelie lets just not mention it and hope it goes away.” He said in a mocking tone, his voice shrill in an attempt to imitate their mother. 

“No I think that’s just the whole Chantry’s philosophy,” She mused, another biscuit in hand whilst the other clutched at the warm mug. “Hope the problem goes away.”

“Blasphemer!” He cried, looking at her with eyes wide from feigned shock, his mouth twisted into a smile beneath bushels of red facial hair. “Honestly who raised you?”

“Same people that raised you,” She said bluntly, looking at her brother with raised eyebrows. 

“Explains a lot, then,” He snickered, his eyes fixed upon the drink in front of him as they fell into a brief silence. Not an uncomfortable one, far from it, she didn't care what they did, all she knew was that she was glad to have her brother here, happy that they could spend this time together alone. So happy, she'd almost forgotten that she was expecting a visitor.

The knock on the door startled them both, although her brother was much faster than she was at recovering. Master of the political game, he had always been quick on his feet, and far less prone to embarrassment than herself. Before she could stop him, he was off of the sofa and heading towards her front door, even as she continued to sit with her bright red face pretending that she had absolutely no idea who was on the other side of the door. 

The worst thing: she could hear everything they were saying. 

“Since when does my sister have good looking men turning up at her door?” Lionel asked, causing her to scrunch up her face and hide it behind her hand in embarrassment.

“I'm a friend of hers, I've come to sort out the heating.”

“Oh thank the Maker, it's freezing in here.” She heard him say, before he called out to her. “Amy! Your _friend_ is here. Should I let him in?”

“Yes, please,” She said with a sigh, her fingers rubbing her temples as she processed the embarrassment, which she quickly pushed away as the two men walked into the body of her home. Her brother’s smirk as he stood in front of her, side by side with Cullen, was enough to irritate her. But she remained pensive, aware of Cullen’s presence and her own wish to keep this as civil as possible. “Thank you for coming over, I see you’ve met my brother, Lionel.”

“That’s alright,” Cullen said with an awkward smile, his free hand clutching at the skin on his neck. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“I’m not complaining,” Her brother snickered, his eyes alight with intrigue. “Go on then, Amy, make the man a cup of tea.”

“That would be nice, thanks,” Cullen said as he shuffled towards the nearest radiator. “I’ll just get to work.”

“Great!” She said, a little too enthusiastically as she hurried towards her kitchen with her brother in tow, giggling behind her as she flicked the kettle on once again. “You’re so embarrassing.” She whispered to him as she rummaged through her cupboards for teabags.

“I know,” He said with a mischievous smile as he watched her pour the tea. “It’s just funny watching you get so flustered.”

“I’m not flustered!” She whispered frantically as she hurried to brew the tea with clumsy hands, spilling a drop of milk on the side of the counter in the process. “He’s just come round to check the heating.”

“Of course he has,” He said, following her again as she delivered the mug of tea over to Cullen who, for some reason, looked mildly put out as he sat next to her radiator, his toolbox perched at his feet. “Everything ok?” She asked him.

“Well,” He began with an exasperated look. “You realise you just need to bleed these right?” She didn’t give him an answer, only a bemused look and a noise which fell somewhere between agreement and confusion. “You don’t know what that means, do you?”

“No I have no idea,” She confessed, earning a sigh from him as he turned back towards the radiator with a small object in one hand and an old rag in the other. 

“See that’s the problem when you grow up in-” Her brother blurted out behind her, interrupted only by the sharp look she threw at him over her shoulder. He stared back at her with a confused look, before slowly mouthing what she thought was the word ‘Circle’, which earned him a sharp shake of her head. “A noble house. We can’t do anything ourselves.”

“What?” Cullen asked, throwing her only the briefest look as he concentrated on his work, his eyes narrow and his brows knotted as he watched himself slowly turn the object in his right hand.

“Our father is the Bann of Ostwick,” She told him nonchalantly, as if she were describing today’s weather. 

“He’s what?” Cullen cried, turning to her with a look of pure fear, before cursing loudly and pulling his hand back away from the radiator. “Sorry, hot water.” He said dismissively, scrambling to return to his work. “You’re serious though?”

“Oh yeah,” Lionel said, perching on the arm of the sofa with his arms crossed and a smirk that drove her insane. “We had a governess and everything.” He turned back to her then, giving her a playful prod on her upper arm. “I bet he’d love to know all about the horse riding lessons! You spent weeks hiding behind our governess’ skirts and wouldn’t go _near_ a horse until Father dragged you along the field and-”

“Yes, thank you!” She cried, throwing him another sharp look before turning back to Cullen, who seemed to have finished fiddling with this particular heater. “Did you want me to show you the others?”

“Yeah, sure,” He said, rising off of the floor and following her out of the room, past her brother who looked far too pleased with himself. She led him through the hallway and up the stairs to her bedroom as if he hadn’t been here twice already, as if he hadn’t already been in this house today and walked this same path.

“So there’s one in each bedroom and one in the bathroom.” She said, making sure her voice was loud enough to carry downstairs. “Sorry about my brother.” She almost whispered, her voice low.

“Oh it’s fine,” He said quietly, shrugging his shoulders. “But I had no idea your family called you Amy, that’s so cute.”

“Go on, get on with it,” She told him, practically pushing him into her bedroom as she thought she heard him say ‘of course, my lady’, before hurrying down the stairs to rejoin her brother, who had vacated his perch on the arm of her sofa and now stood in her hallway, his arms crossed and his eyes narrow as he surveyed her. 

“So,” He began, his voice slow as he looked her up and down, his lips stretched into a smirk once more. “What’s the deal with you and the radiator repairman?”

 

 


	9. The Trevelyan's of Ostwick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelie returns to Ostwick for a weekend visit but, unfortunately, word of her antics has reached her devout, stern, and highly traditional family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you read: I woke up with a migraine and have been unable to edit this properly. I will return in a few days to check it over but if you see anything weird don't hesitate to let me know. I will be a bit embarrassed but also very grateful

How long ago was it that she had last driven down the long, gravel lined path that lead to her parents home, past acres of open grass which stretched out for miles, hidden behind a uniform line of tall, delicately trimmed shrubs? When she'd last left her parents house, this time by choice, climbing into this same car with her suitcase and her bag of books, driven to the airport by the same driver, the large house that never quite became a home fading into the distance behind her. Now she was driving the other way, towards the grand house with its landscaped drive and it's many windows, the car circling the large fountain that sat at its apex, empty now in preparation for the bitter snap of winter, due to hit them any time now. 

“We're here now, Miss Amelie,” The driver said in a thick Starkhaven accent as the car pulled to a stop beside the stone steps which led up to her family home. She could see her mother and sister stood atop them, dressed in thick coats as the cold wind assailed them on their perch. But why they were alone, she had no idea. That was, until the driver opened her door, and she stepped out of the car and onto the gravel drive. 

“Hey!” She turned her gaze away from the house and out onto the plush, manicured lawn which stretched out for miles in front of them, broken only by the occasional well trimmed shrub or tall, ancient tree. Lionel stood at the edge of the lawn, dressed in a thick coat with boots which came up to his knees, his hand resting on a shotgun which rested over his other arm. She waved him over, and he approached her carefully, stepping over the row of shrubs which bordered the lawn. “I almost missed you!” He said cheerfully.

“I’m guessing you’re off hunting?” She asked him, her eyes travelling to the stretch of grass behind him where two other men stood, her father being one of them. He looked foreboding as he stood with a gun in hand with his eyes fixed on them, she could practically see his mouth twitch beneath the mass of greying facial hair, the way it did when she said something he didn’t like, or when she forgot to drink tea with the correct fingers, or, well, whenever he looked at her. But there was something else. Was she being paranoid, or was his stance rigid, his shoulders tense as he clutched at the large gun he held on his arm? 

“Yes, well…” Lionel said, his gaze dropping as he cleared his throat. “Father wanted to get out for a bit.”

“You told him, didn’t you!” She cried, her mouth agape as she stared her brother down. 

“Yeah... good luck with that!” He said hurriedly, before attempting to make his escape back across the shrubbery. But, for once, she was quick enough. She grabbed his forearm, rooting him to the spot as he, surprisingly, struggled against her grasp.

“Why did you do that?” She asked him, her eyes looking into his, which were remarkably more hazel than her own green, with an intensity he couldn’t match. “I told you not to!”

“I’m sorry!” He sighed, dropping his gaze once again. “I had to take the heat off me for a bit, I was getting _a lot_ of stick for the whole divorce thing.”

“So you dropped me in it?” She asked, earning a meek nod from him matched with a sympathetic look. “Are they mad?”

“Not really,” He said dismissively, giving his shoulders a shrug. “Well I think mother is fine, but I can’t tell with father. He always looks pissed off.”

“Well, I normally do something to piss him off,” She sighed, loosening her grip on her brother’s arm as she turned to look back at the house, where her sister and mother stood looking windswept and impatient. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, we won’t be long,” He assured her, looking out back over the lawn at her equally impatient father and what looked like her brother-in-law. “Good luck.” He said as he retreated, giving her a small nod of encouragement as she watched him traverse the plush green lawn. Maker, how she wished she could swap places with him.

She turned back towards the house, where her mother and sister had finally decided to descend the stone steps and approach her, albeit with uncertainty as their delicate shoes met the dusty gravel. Although she was still faster than them, her sensible shoes and added height proving to be an advantage as she crossed the driveway to greet them in the shadow of their home.

“It’s good to see you again, Amelie,” Her mother, the dazzling Corrine Trevelyan, said in a gentle, but somewhat strained voice, her faux Orlesian accent slipping as she addressed her. “Claudette really wanted to see you.” She told her, before hurriedly adding: “Well, we all did of course.”

“I am so excited to see you!” Claudette cried, her voice shrill as she grabbed her left hand, her large hazel eyes looking eagerly into her own beneath delicately styled chestnut curls. “Can I take Amelie upstairs?” She began, turning to their mother who stood as stony faced as ever. “It would be so nice to have a proper chat with her.”

“Of course,” She replied, her face breaking out in a strained smile as she looked at her two daughters, giving them what she thought was a knowing look, one which hid some semblance of knowledge that she would rather not have known. But then again, she had always been subtle, far more than their father, and if this was her way of getting information, then Amelie would be far from surprised. “I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready.”

“Great!” Claudette said, pulling her towards the house with the same unmatched enthusiasm she always showed; the wide smile framed by painted lips, the twinkling, almost brown, eyes, the spring in her step. There was no doubt that, whatever light shone from the Trevelyan household, most of it came from her. 

She was lead through the familiar halls, halls she once thought she'd never see again, with paintings of their ancestors staring down at them, tall statues and luscious green plants lining the walls, and gleaming white marble beneath their feet. There was little life in this place, some would say, just another over furnished, ludicrously expensive, noble house. But to her, it was the memory of an old life, or the promise of a life she could never have, a feeling that was comforting, but bittersweet. And that feeling became ever more potent everytime she saw Claudette, the married woman with the permanently styled hair and expertly trimmed figure who, in Amelie’s eyes, would always be the baby she had left behind.

“You’re staying in your usual room, I checked,” Claudette declared, leading her down the hallway to the room she had claimed. Not her childhood room, that had become her father’s new study, but a room that had become hastily made up when the truce was signed, and all her childhood things had been placed inside, still in the flimsy cardboard box they had been placed in when she’d left. Even now they sat there, untouched on a now empty desk that had once held a plethora of heavy history books and folders filled with notes, the sun filtering in through the slightly dusty window to dance upon the desktop. It was only after the two were in the dusty room, and the door was closed behind them, that she turned to her, her sweet smiling face turned to that of an interrogator. “Sorry about all that, I just wanted to talk in private.”

“What about mother?” She asked, busying herself with unpacking the small amount of items she had brought. “Won’t she think this is weird?”

“Oh no,” She dismissed her concerns, collapsing down on the bed. “She probably thinks I’m just telling you about the pregnancy.”

“Are you pregnant?” She cried, dropping the book she had been holding so that it landed on the floor with an obnoxious thud.

“Yes but that isn’t important right now,” She said hurriedly, cutting her off before she could interrupt. “What is important is that you’re sleeping your way around Val Royeaux!”

“I am not!” She protested, her mouth agape as she stared at her sister’s innocent face as she sat delicately on her bed, her petite form poised as a noble lady’s should be. “And how is that more important than you being pregnant?”

“Because it’s exciting!” She cried with a shrill, eager voice, before her shoulder slumped and her face turned into a sulk, her lips forming a perfect pout as her gaze fell to her lap. “You get to do such exciting things that I would never get to do!” She joined her on the bed then, collapsing onto the soft covers as her sister gave her speech. “I barely even knew my husband before we married. I mean, we get on very well, he’s very kind to me.” She emphasised, taking her hand in her own. Maker, she had forgotten how touchy feely her sister could be. “But you get to go to Val Royeaux and have a career and...do stuff with plumbers!”

“He’s not a plumber,” She sighed, rolling her eyes at her sister. “He’s in the army.”

“Oh,” She said, her eyes wide with excitement. “See that is exciting!”

“It is?” She asked, fighting the urge to reply with sarcasm. “It’s Val Royeaux, Claudette, people do much more...debasing things than me.”

“See that’s what I mean!” Claudette cried, her lips forming a pout once again. “You get to live in the heart of Orlais, where everything happens!” She said with an enthusiastic tone. “I’m stuck in the Free Marches and, in about eight months time, I’ll have a baby to look after!”

“What are you saying, Claudette?” She asked her with some concern. “Do you not want it?”

“Well, I do,” She sighed. “But I never really had the choice. I was always going to marry and have children.”

“I don’t really have the choice either,” She told her, her hand instinctively to the tiny lump beneath the skin on her left arm that she could still feel over two years later, because Maker forbid she passed on her cursed genes. “Any freedom I have, I’ve earnt,” She said, her voice stern as she turned back to her sister. “But we all have our prisons, Claudette. Some are just more obvious than others.”

“You’re right, I’m being stupid,” She said, a slight smile spreading across her lips. “You _were_ in a Circle for twenty years.”

“Yeah but you are right, I do have a good life now,” She told her, placing a sympathetic hand on her shoulders. “Maybe you could come and visit sometime, see what it’s like?” She asked earning a bright smile from her sister.

“Seriously?” She asked her, her eyes lighting up with excitement once again. “When?”

“I don’t know,” She mused, her eyes narrowing as her brain worked its magic. It wasn’t long until Satinalia, when the markets of Val Royeaux will transform from shabby stalls to small wooden huts filled with trinkets and crafts, when lights will be hung from every shop and every street will be covered in a blanket of thick snow. It sounded beautiful to her, but Satinalia would be spent in Ostwick, of course, with a four course meal and overpriced presents. Then she remembered what she had been sent shopping for last, the purple dress hung on the doors to her wardrobe, and the promise that Cullen was going to be there too. She couldn’t bring her sister to the ball, seeing as the small meeting with Lionel last weekend had been so embarrassing. But then she saw her sister sat there, the sister who she hadn’t seen for twenty years, her face lit up with excitement as her wide hazel eyes shone with the prospect of adventure, whose life would soon be given to a domestic life partially against her wishes, and she caved. “How about you come to the New Years ball?”

It was as if she had promised her the world. 

“ _The_ New Years ball?” She cried, as she jumped up off of the bed, turning around to face her with her hands covering her mouth which stood open as she stared down at her. “As in, the Val Royeaux masquerade?”

“Yes…” She said slowly, beginning to regret her decision. “I’ll just get an extra ticket.”

“Oh Maker,” Claudette sighed, her hand running through her sleek brown hair. “I have to tell mother, she can get me a new dress!” She practically threw herself out of the door with Amelie sprinting after her, although sprint was an exaggeration, her longer legs keeping her abreast with her smaller sister as they crossed the hallway. Sure, a small part of her regretted the decision to invite her sister to the biggest event of the year, where she’d hoped to spend her time with Cullen in his suit and her in her dress, maybe even dancing until First Day. But, also, the greater part of her was happy that she could bring her sister so much joy. That was, until they bumped into their brother.

“Lionel!” Claudette cried, her voice travelling down the hall to greet their brother, who stood at the top of the stairs still in his hunting clothes. “Where’s mother? I need to ask her something.”

“She’s downstairs,” He told them as they approached, his brows furrowed as he looked at the two of them. “What do you need her for?” He asked them, face contorted in confusion.

“Amelie is taking me to the New Years ball!” She said with an air of pride, lifting her chin to look up at her taller siblings. “Jealous?” She teased.

“No,” He shrugged, his voice cool and collected. “Because she’s taking me too.”

“I am?” She asked with a shrill voice, her mouth agape as she looked at her brother, who appeared to be suppressing a laugh. “Sorry I didn’t realise I’d invited you too.”

“Well you are now,” He shrugged again as he rubbed his beard with his hand. “I need to get myself a suit.”

“Oh we should go shopping together!” Claudette suggested, her smile widening with every second. “Come on, let’s go and tell mother!”

“Alright, but father wants to see Amelie, first,” He turned to her with an apologetic look, his smile forced as she threw him a look of pure hatred. Maker, he was a pain in the ass. “Good luck with that one.” He said, giving her a patronising pat on the shoulder.

She didn't say anything to him. Instead, she retreated. Away from her siblings, and away into her own mind, distancing herself from her fear of the confrontation ahead of her, the one which waited at the bottom of the grand stairs headed by the tall, broad man with the well groomed, greying black beard. The Bann of Ostwick himself, who looked at her with a face as blank as an empty notebook, his expression unchanging even as she approached and the dogs at his feet yapped and jumped up in excitement. She looked at the scene in front of her: her father, austere and stern, her mother, with eagle eyes and a concerned look, the dogs circling their feet, and she decided what she should do, how she would play this.

She would do what she always did, pretend nothing was wrong.

“Hey girls!” She said enthusiastically at the dogs who sniffed at her boots and wagged their tails ferociously as she knelt to stroke their soft, mud coated fur. She even managed a smile, a genuine one at that, as she concentrated her attention on the two, completely blanking her parents as they towered above her. If there was one thing she could do, it was completely ignoring a problem presented to her.

“Amelie,” At the sound of her father’s voice, she stood up slowly, her eyes rising to meet his in a way which she hoped was as assured as his own. But her face remained innocent, her smile sweet, as if she weren’t completely terrified of what he was going to do to her. One of Ferdinand’s children had to have inherited his heart of steel, his stubborn nature, his unflinching gaze, and it definitely wasn’t either of her siblings. “I need to speak with you.” He told her, his voice cool and stern as he gestured to an empty room to their side, one of the many rooms they found very little use for.

“Of course,” She said sweetly, turning to give her mother a quick glance before following him into the room. She’d looked somewhat sympathetic, looking up at her daughter with eyes which were more fatigued than angry, yet she would get no sympathy here, or at least she imagined.

With the two of them alone in the room, the atmosphere became oppressive. It was darker in here, the curtains had scarcely been drawn, and the plush sofa she sat herself down on had had little use, the cushions too firm and, even in the semi-darkness, she could see that the colour was too pristine, unmarked by the usual wear and tear. Maker, if her parents ever visited her home, they’d be in for a shock. Not that they ever would, not after this. 

“I presume you know why I wished to speak with you,” Her father said as he perched against an ornate desk, his eyes fixed on her as she stared back up at him. It was as if she were back in the Circle again, getting called up in front of the First Enchanter or the Knight-Commander, being interrogated for any wrongdoing, or any knowledge of rebellious acts or, sometimes, being praised, but that wasn’t too often. 

“Not really, no,” She lied, maintaining the innocent look on her face as her eyes surveyed the room, with its stylishly outdated decor and hideously obnoxious wall hangings and tapestries. No wonder they never used this room, it would bring ruin upon the Trevelyan name.

“Look,” He sighed, folding his arms over his chest as he stared at her beneath furrowed brows. “I’m not going to sit here and lecturer you on what you can and can’t do in your spare time.”

“You’re not?” She asked, her mask dropping as the shock of his words hit her like a tonne of bricks. 

“No,” He said firmly. “If you were Claudette, then maybe I would.”

“Why do you say that?” She barked, her tone sounding unintentionally accusatory. 

“Because Claudette is my heir,” He threw her sharp tone back at her, his voice rising into an almost shout. Except he never shouted, he was stern, and he could stare someone down until they crumbled before him, but he never shouted. That was possibly why people were so scared of him. “She can’t afford to play around. Her marriage is keeping our alliance with Tantervale alive if she missteps, we make enemies of one of the biggest cities in the Free Marches.”

“Oh but I can do what I want because I don’t do anything important,” She said, shrugging her shoulders. “I guess I’m more of a problem for this family than anything.”

“Claudette,” He began sternly. “Is everything I could want from a daughter, and an heir. She is beautiful, and charming, and polite, and she has served this family so well.” He stopped for a moment, and the two embraced the silence, listening to the sound of the grandfather clock as the seconds passed before he continued his speech. “But the Maker never intended for you to go down that path, that’s why he gave you your...gifts.”

As he paused, she stared down at her hands which sat awkwardly in her lap as she worked the nerves out of her body with a massage of her palms. There was hardly a trace now of her Circle life, the callouses on the bridge between her thumb and forefinger had all but disappeared now, the scar she’d gained from an accidental singe in her apprentice years had faded almost to nothing. All she had left was the occasional flash of ice, or fire, or the soft glow of healing magic that sometimes spluttered from her fingertips when her guard was down, or on the rare occasion she could finally break free and make use of her talents. 

“What are you trying to say?” She asked him eventually, forcing herself to meet his gaze once again as he watched her from the shadows.

“That you may think that Claudette is everything I could ever want from a daughter and, well she is,” He began, his body slumping slightly as he sighed dramatically. “But she will never be my firstborn, my eldest. You do what you want, ok? Just be careful. And if this man, this electrician or whatever, does anything to hurt you. Then he will have to deal with me, and he will pay.”

At his words, he turned to leave, and she watched him take those slow, deliberate strides across and towards the door. “He’s not an electrician,” she had wanted to say, but her ability to speak had abandoned her as soon as his words had hit home. For the two and a half years since she had left the Circle, she had really thought that the looks he gave her were looks of contempt, bitter looks of disappointment at the stain she had wrought upon their reputation. But, perhaps, it was possible that those looks were, instead, looks underlined by heartbreak, that he had lost his eldest daughter and she had been returned to him a fully grown woman.

She didn’t follow him, she just sat, perched on the rock hard, pristine sofa in the dark, empty room, listening to the ticking of the grandfather clock as the seconds continued to pass her by, whilst everything around her remained still, quiet, peaceful.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Next weeks chapter will be the last of this 5 chapter block and therefore will be the last before I take a break for Easter but I have planned this fic out (somewhat) so that the breaks take place at sensible times so don't worry about cliffhangers or anything like that.


	10. A Welcome Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelie returns from Ostwick ready to hide away from the world and spend an evening to herself, but when he flight gets in, someone is waiting for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning for explicit sexual content.

There was very little that stressed her out more than traversing airport security. Leaving Ostwick had been fine, she knew half the Templars there and they knew her, or at least, her name. But Val Royeaux was another matter, crawling with Templars in black armour with the vivid red sword emblazoned on their arm as they grasped at their rifles with a menacing air. 

But, still, it meant she was almost home. She was glad more than anything that the weekend was over, she'd had her fair share of awkward or stressful situations these last two days, but even though she now stood literally staring down the barrel of a Templar’s gun, she knew she was edging closer and closer to home. Anyway, it didn't take her too long pass through security, she knew the deal by now: name, age, circle of origin, reason for visit, all the questions she could answer now with as much ease as a sister reciting the chant.

Eventually, she emerged from the vipers nest with a newly formed migraine and legs as heavy as lead. Maker, if Claudette hadn't been so insistent, she could have stayed at home and spent the weekend reading a book, or catching up on the shows she'd missed, before running herself a bath and settling in for the evening. But, no, she'd been subjected to a four hour flight, and harassment by security, only to come out to be welcomed by everyone else's loved ones with their signs and banners and...flowers?

It was the flowers that caught her eye, a bright spot of pink amongst the miserable grey faces, a rare spot of beauty amongst the misery, delicate and lovely. Maker, whoever was receiving those must be the luckiest person in the world. A woman returning to her love, a man returning to his? Perhaps returning in time for the onset of Winter, perhaps they had come to see family before Satinalia arrived, just as she had? Either way, she kept her head down in her envy, hurrying past the crowd of people as she set herself for the journey home. Until a voice made her stop dead, earning her a disgruntled curse from a man who walked into her.

“Amelie?” She turned towards the voice with confused, but weary, eyes, eyes which returned to the flowers that had drawn her gaze. But, this time, she looked at the person holding them, who looked at her with golden eyes and golden hair, standing with the flowers in one hand, and a mabari at his other. He looked at her with a smile, a smile she knew so well now, as he stood in his heavy coat and his thick scarf which obscured much of his sharp jawline and the thin line of stubble that had scratched against almost all the skin on her body. The question was, what the hell was Cullen doing here.

“Cullen?” She asked, walking briskly over to him where she was greeted with an outstretched arm and an embrace that she fell into with ease, feeling the pressure of a gentle kiss on her migraine riddled forehead. “You didn't tell me you we're coming.”

“Thought I'd surprise you,” He said, looking as if he were feeling very pleased with himself. “But I don't know if I got your flight time wrong, I thought you were meant to come in a while ago.”

“Oh, we did,” She said dismissively. “Security were being a bit twitchy.” It wasn't technically a lie, she just omitted the part where security were always twitchy when she travelled anywhere because she was a societal outcast, and the part where the rest of her plane had likely passed through unscathed.

“Probably because of the protesters outside,” He said, not seeming phased at all, instead, he just gave her an encouraging smile. Maker, did she really deserve him?

“Yeah, that will be it,” She said with a strained smile, pulling herself closer into his embrace as fatigue began to set in. She'd felt drained before but now, feeling his comforting presence enveloped around her, all the energy left her and she could have fallen asleep in his arms there and then, his smell, one which reminded her of a forest in autumn, or a fresh burst of rain, threatening to pull her into the fade.

“Amelie?” He asked, nudging her with his hand until she looked up into his warm eyes, which watched her with gentle concern. “Everything Ok?”

“Yeah, sorry,” She said hurriedly, straightening herself out and pulling away from his embrace. “It's just been a long day, well, a long weekend.”

“Come on,” He urged, pressing the flowers into her hand, freeing up one hand whilst he took her bags in the other. With an encouraging smile, and the touch of his free hand against her back, they began to make their way out of the bustling airport, with Leo trotting obediently at Cullen’s heel. “I've got some food in, I thought I could cook for you. If you wanted to, of course, I'll understand if you just want to go home.”

“Well, I'll need to drop everything at mine.first,” She said, earning herself an enthusiastic grin from Cullen which spread across his face, his eyes twinkling with excitement as they looked at her, and she looked back at him, with his eager face and his warm countenance. This whole weekend, she'd rarely felt at ease, as if she were an intruder in her own family home, an oddity that some found curious, but others found distasteful. It was curious to her that, even after two and a half years of freedom, she had yet to find her place in her family. But, when she was with Cullen, she felt so at ease that it was as if he had always been there, and that, when she wasn't, something was very wrong. “I'm so glad you came, thank you,” She said to him, pausing to look at his excited face.

“In all honesty…” He began, dropping his gaze and rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand as they continued their walk out if the airport and across the car park. “I've missed you.”

“I missed you too,” She said with a smile, her face burning as they approached his car, a rather modest and old looking estate, and stopped. His eyes fell on her once again as he loaded her bags into the car, her gaze only dropping from his when he threw her a warm, gentle, smile. “Anyway,” She said hurriedly as she let herself into the car, collapsing into the cold leather seat as he climbed into the driver's seat, throwing a quick look at the seats behind them where Leo had laid down comfortably on what looked like one of Cullen’s coats.“It's just nice to be back.”

“Was everything ok?” He asked, his attention focused on maneuvering the car park as he spoke. “You seem pretty stressed.”

“It's just a bit stressful dealing with my family,” She told him with an exasperated chuckle as she sunk into her seat, covering her throbbing head with a weak hand. “There was a lot of lecturing.”

“Why, what did you do?” He asked innocently, before she saw his face blanche, turning an ashen white as the realisation dawned on him. “Oh.”

“Yeah, that was fun,” She sighed, looking over to watch Cullen as he drove. He looked as handsome as ever as he concentrated on the road, her gaze drawn to his side profile which looked as if it had been carved by ancient masters of the arts, his face set and his jaw rigid as he focused intently. “But it was good to know that nothing has changed. My mother is still pretending she has a natural Orlesian accent and doesn't sound completely ridiculous. My brother and sister are still away with the aristocratic fairies and, by the way, invited themselves to the New Years Ball so I have to sort that out. And my father is still an asshole.”

“Did he give you a lot of grief?” He asked her, his voice slightly shaken with nerves.

“Surprisingly, no,” She shrugged, her eyes returning to the road ahead of them as they approached the congested city centre. “He just reminded me of how much he loved my sister and how perfect she is, and he basically washed his hands of me, told me to do what I want,” She continued with another sigh, her eyes closing again as her migraine threatened to return. “Although then he went all protective, told me that, despite the fact that my existence is an unfortunate and constant stain on his perfect reputation, he'd still kick your ass if you hurt me which, at the very least was irritating, and at the most, offensive.”

“Well he can try,” He said, brushing away her father's threats with a shrug of his shoulders. As they slowed to a crawl in the heavy traffic, she saw him look over at her with a brief glance, before his hand found its way onto hers, enclosing her fingers in his palm as he drew them to his mouth for a brief, gentle kiss, his breath tickling the skin of her hand. “You're home now,” He reminded her with a smile, before turning his attention back to the road.

“Yeah, thank the Maker,” She said with an exasperated laugh. “Anyway, if you were that bad, I'd have dealt with you myself.”

“You would?” He laughed, throwing her a quick glance. “I'd like to see that.”

“You think I couldn't?” She asked, her voice rising with feigned annoyance. “I'm stronger than my brother, you know.”

“Well no offense, but he looked pretty weedy,” He scoffed, earning himself a nudge on his shoulder from her. “Maybe we should test that out later?” He asked her in a quiet voice, his words underlined by a mischievous smirk.

“You're on, Rutherford.”

\-----

He had her down within seconds, pinned to the hard cushions of his sofa with his hands clutching at her wrists, his face hovering inches above her own with roaming eyes and parted lips. Their breaths were heavy, their eyes wide, their bodies pressed against one another, but they were still, unmoving, as if time itself had halted just for them. There was no movement except the rise and fall of their chests, no sound except their heightened breaths, no words spoken between the two, until Cullen whispered just a few words, his lips barely moving with the effort, except to stretch into a lopsided smirk.

“I think I win,” His whispered words were barely audible, but still they brought a laugh to her lips, and a rush of excitement to her whole body, the warmth in his voice spreading through her body like a wildfire, causing her gaze to drop momentarily as she steadied herself. That was when he made his move.

His lips crashed against her own, his body pressed further onto her, and she was a victim to his affections once again. His hands released her wrists, but she still could not escape her binding even if she wanted to, the weight of his strong body trapping her to the sofa. But, Maker, how could she complain? His lips were soft against her skin, but his stubble was harsh, scratching at her as it brushed against the skin on her cheeks, jawline, neck, as he found more places to plant his fervent kisses. And then he was undoing the buttons of her blouse one at a time, slowly, with clumsy, shaking, fingers as she drew her head back, her eyes opening to look at the handsome face which hovered above her.

But then something caught her eye. 

“Cullen?” She asked, turning her face to look at the mass of brown at the corner of her vision. Beside the sofa, a soft, brown face with big eyes stared at the two of them, pointed ears extended to the sky. But Cullen was oblivious, his attention fixed upon her as he scrambled with more buttons, his face burrowed in her skin. “Cullen!” She cried, prodding him on the shoulder. He looked up, bringing his face away from hers with a confused look, his eyes narrow. 

“What is it?” He asked her with a concerned tone. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, it’s not that,” She assured him, before turning her head to look at the silent mabari, who continued to watch them with big, sad eyes. “He’s watching us.” 

She felt Cullen’s head move beside her and, for a second, the two of them stared at the dog who, once Cullen’s gaze met his, let out a soft, high pitched whine, which was matched with a sigh from Cullen.

“Alright, I’ll let you out,” He sighed, heaving himself off of her and stumbling towards his dog, who had eagerly stood himself up with a wagging tail and what she thought was a smile, his tongue poking out as he followed Cullen, who was walking awkwardly towards the doors to the garden. “You’re not coming back in until we’re done,” She heard him lecture. “And whining won’t help, these doors are soundproof.” His words were accompanied by the sound of a sliding door slamming shut, and she watched him as he sauntered back over to her with a frown. “Andraste preserve me,” He grumbled as he approached the sofa, stopping dead as his gaze met hers. “I try to be sexy for you, and something always gets in the way.”

“You don’t have to try,” She told him with a teasing smile, lifting herself off of the sofa and approaching him with outstretched hands that found their place upon his waist, circling him as she drew herself closer to him, and then lowering as they slipped beneath his waistband. She felt his muscles tense beneath her hand as they came to rest, and she heard him sigh as she began to massage, her fingers moving across warm skin and pushing into firm muscle. But then she moved her left hand, removing it from his trousers and instead brought it up beneath his shirt, brushing against the hair on his stomach, his chest, and then following the line that lead down the outline of his abs and beneath his waistband. That was when his sighs turned to moans. “I think you should sit down.” She told him, her eyes locking onto his intently as she issued her command.

He sat, his eyes wide with curiosity as he watched her stand above him, with her half undone shirt and her red hair sticking out at odd angles. She let him stew for a few seconds, let him continue to watch her for a little while before she began to peel off her jeans, and her underwear, so that she was naked from the waist down, exposed to his hungry gaze with the exception of her half undone shirt. He moved to stand up, bring himself over to her, but she stopped him with a gentle hand upon his chest, before her hands fell once again on his waistband. But, this time, her hands didn’t slip beneath the fabric, they removed it.

He sat beneath her strong thighs as she began to pleasure him, his breathing become more laboured, his eyes becoming less focused, his breaths escaping into moans and sighs, with each stroke of her hand. His eyes closed, his head fell back, his body arched away from the sofa cushions, as she quickened her pace. But then, as if a switch had flicked in his brain, he came back to her, and his fingers fell upon her clitirous.

It almost made her stop, the intense feeling of pleasure he had given her, that he still gave her, as he stroked and teased. But she kept going, only faster, her own pleasure urging her on, building and building with each stroke of his fingers until they almost mirrored each other, the two of them panting with their backs arched and their heads thrown back as they grasped at one another, grounding themselves in one another’s presence.

It was pure ecstasy, but there could always be more. She brought herself back up to face him and peeled his fingers off of her as she let go of him, adjusting herself so that she hovered over him, her nose almost touching his, their breaths mingling, eyes locked. They shared the silence for just a few seconds, revelling in the presence of another, as they breathed in and out in perfect synchronisation, once, twice, before she took him in her hands once again, and lowered herself down slowly and carefully.

His breath caught, his eyes closed, his head thrown back against the cushions as she enclosed his penis in her warm flesh, slowly, bringing herself down further and further with each movement of her hips until she reached the apex of his length. She stopped again, only briefly, but it was enough for him pull her mouth to his, soft lips crashing against soft lips, tongues moving forward to explore the mouth behind the lips, fueled by the inexplicable need to be closer and closer to one another until they were almost one. But it could never be enough, everything they did, the feeling of his tongue brushing against hers, the yearning of his touch as he grasped at her skin, the ripples of pleasure that moved through her everytime he moved his hips. No, she could never have enough. Not of him.

Pushing her down onto the cushions once again, he towered over her, entangled in each other’s grasps as he pushed her to her limit, thrusting with such speed that it sent her into overdrive, her mind reeling, ascending to a plane she didn’t even know existed, all the senses in her body heightened, on full alert, as every ounce of her lit up with the flames of passion. She climaxed, shaking, sweating, panting, weakened by his continuing efforts at pleasure. Until he finished too, his back arched, his hips still and tense as he remained inside her, his eyes closed as the wave crashed over him. She watched him through lidded eyes, watched as he crumpled, collapsing his body weight down until he hovered over her, his face only a hair's breadth away from her own. They said nothing for some time, relaxing in the silence as she took in every aspect of his appearance, his gentle brown eyes, his weak smile, the tense muscles in his neck as he caught his breath. He was everything she wanted, needed, someone who gave her so much joy, Maker, she was lucky.

“So what do we do now?” She whispered, throwing him a teasing smile before bringing him in for another kiss.

“What do you mean?” He frowned, his eyebrows furrowed as he stared at her intently, shifting ever so slightly between her legs.

“I mean,” She began, her smile widening as she let out a breathy laugh. “How are we going to get out of this without getting your cum all over the sofa?”

“Oh,” He said, before collapsing onto her with an exasperated laugh that she felt tickling the skin on her chest. “I have tissues in the draw on the coffee table.” He said as he drew himself back to tower over her once again, only this time, he was looking over at the table in the centre of the room. She laughed as he reached over with all his might, grunting as he shuffled the both of them across the sofa cushions and, eventually, grabbed the tissues from inside the draw. Removing himself from her with a great deal of awkward shuffling and a large number of scrunched up tissues, he was eventually free to roam the room in search of his pants, throwing her own underwear at her in the process. “I am sorry,” He said when he was dressed, turning back to her as she sat still largely undressed while she caught her breath. “I should have used a condom.”

“No, you’re fine,” She shrugged, pulling one of the blankets she had brought from her home over her as she reclined on the stiff sofa. “I sorted that out a while ago.”

“Oh thank the Maker,” He sighed as she watched him walk through the kitchen and towards the glass doors to the garden, where Leo was sat staring into the house with a pitiful look in his eye. “You know how uncomfortable those things are? It’s like having sex with a carrier bag.”

“Some people might like that,” She laughed, just as Cullen decided to open the door and Leo came barrelling into the home, running around his feet excitedly with a toy in his mouth until Cullen launched it into the living room. “He doesn’t seem too bothered about being shut outside.”

“No, he’s fine,” Cullen said as he came back over to her, leaning down to give her kiss on the forehead. “Anyway, at least he likes you.”

“He does?” She asked, looking over at the dog, who had now abandoned his toy in favour of the soft pink blanket she had brought from hers, the one which he had now apparently claimed as his own. “Or is it just because I own the best blanket in the world?”

“Possibly,” He said as he climbed over the arm of the sofa and planted himself behind her, tucking himself beneath the blanket and wrapping his arm around her body, pressing himself against her back as his head rested in the crook of her neck. “Can I have this one?” He asked as he drew the soft fabric closer around them.

“I guess so,” She turned her head to look at him, her eyes finding his as he leaned over her shoulder, drawing himself towards her to plant a slow, gentle kiss upon her lips. 

“I can’t get enough of you,” He whispered, bringing himself in for more kisses as his hands began to roam beneath the fabric of her shirt once again, finding a place to rest on the curve of her breast. “When will I get to see you again? Friday?”

She smiled, relaxing in his embrace as she heard those familiar words again, happy in the realisation that this was becoming her routine, her life. That friday wasn’t just a day anymore, it was a promise to one another that they’d be together again soon, with each friday that passed promising another week that they could share together. She looked up at him with a soft smile, before whispering the word he had been waiting for:

“Friday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you've made it this far, well done! After this I'm taking a break for Easter of around 3-4 weeks, and then we will kick off with the next bit of the story, which has a bit of drama to it so its worth looking forward to. If you're aching for more content over the break check out my Tumblr blog where I'll be doing prompts and a giveaway. Thank you again and I'll see you after Easter.


	11. Remnants of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelie isn't the only one who wanted to start afresh in Val Royeaux. But the past catches up on us all.

For the past few weeks, their friday routine had been the same. They’d both turn up at the same bar at different times, and be almost surprised to find the other there waiting for them, as if it were simply the rule that that was where they were meant to be and what was meant to happen. But this week was different. This week, they walked in together, hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder, cold fingers grasping at cold fingers.

The bar wasn't busy, Cullen's friends hadn't arrived yet, and only two people sat on the stools at the bar, but it was loud. Every few seconds, a fresh cheer would erupt from a crowd gathered at the back of the bar, who seemed to be watching a woman playing darts.

“Hey Dorian,” She said, greeting her friend as they approached his seat at the bar. “What's going on?”

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you,” Dorian said with a curious air as he nursed a glass of red wine in one hand and lazily composed a text in the other.

“Hey, Curly!” A voice called from behind Dorian, summoning them over to the other patron, who turned out to be Josephine's publisher.

“Varric,” Cullen said with a monotonous tone as he looked over at the crowd, who had just elicited a fresh cheer as the woman flung another series of darts at the board. “I see you've brought a friend.”

“She's just popped by to say hello,” Varric told him, before turning his attention to her, his lips twisting into a sly smile as she drew his attention. “Who's your friend?”

“Amelie Trevelyan,” She introduced herself with an extended hand, which was shaken rather vigorously by Varric. “I think you know my colleague, Josephine Montilyet.”

“Oh yes, Ruffles,” Varric smiled, his eyes alight with curiosity. “I'd like to get to know you better, Amelie, see what kind of girl managed to reel in Curly.”

“I'll keep her away from you, then,” Cullen chucked, his warm eyes falling on her as he smiled, squeezing her hand gently before turning back to Varric and his ‘friend’, who appeared to be celebrating a victory in the background. “You realise Cassandra will be here tonight?”

“Well that will be fun,” Varric smirked, rubbing his hands with glee. “Who wants to place bets?”

“On what?” She asked him, drawing the attention of Dorian who already appeared to be getting his wallet out, apparently eager to throw away his money on people he didn't know.

“On who's going to kick the other’s ass.” Varric chuckled as Cullen sighed heavily next to him, his fingers rubbing his temples as he looked at Varric with an exasperated air.

“This could end badly,” Cullen said to her, his voice strained as he muttered in her ear. “Cassandra has been looking for an excuse to get at her for ages now.”

“Who?” Amelie asked, peering around his shoulder to get a good look at the young woman who could expertly navigate a game of darts. She was short, as was her hair, which sat just above her broad shoulders in midnight black waves. Black was clearly her colour, almost every article of clothing she wore was black, the knee high boots, the skin tight jeans, the leather jacket which sat on a bright red top which matched her lipstick exactly. She looked formidable enough, she must have been to draw so much attention, and she looked familiar. But the Maker knew she had no idea what was going on here. “Who is she?”

“HAWKE!” A woman’s voice screamed from the entrance to the pub, accompanied by the violent slamming of the front door and the loud thumping of footsteps against the wooden floor. Amelie recognised her vaguely as Cassandra Pentaghast, the woman who vied for peace in a brutal civil war, member of the Magi Assimilation Committee and leader of the new international peace force. In other words, she was was Cullen’s boss. 

Amelie didn’t know where to look. Torn between the formidable woman who marched across the bar with the strength of an entire army, and the smaller woman in her heels and her lipstick who was, apparently, the Champion of Kirkwall. 

“I’ll put 10 _lions_ on the Seeker,” Dorian called out to Varric, who looked as if he were enjoying this far too much. 

“Is that all?” She asked him, letting out a breathy laugh as she raised her eyebrows at Dorian, who sat on his stool looking perplexed. “I say if you lose, you have to ask out that Qunari you’ve been eyeing up.” She told him, nodding at the large figure who sat in the corner surrounded by a group of scary looking people. He went to answer, his mouth agape as he looked over at the man in question, who’s horns looked as wide as a small car and his arms as big as tree trunks, but they were interrupted by an explosion of noise right next to them.

“Varric!” Cassandra had now rounded on the dwarf, who looked as if he could be crushed beneath the weight of her steely gaze. “I told you I was looking for Hawke, that I wanted to speak to her, and all this time, you knew where she was! _Who_ she was!” She turned back to Hawke, who now stood to the side with her arms folded and her gaze fixed upon the fighting match. “I have sat opposite that woman for two years and never once did you think to mention that this was Hawke?”

“Hey!” Hawke stepped up, her shoulders square, her countenance fierce as she looked at Cassandra with eyes framed by dark eyeshadow and copious amounts of thick, black eyeliner. She may be small, but she made up for that with an intensity that Amelie could never hope to match. “Step away from the dwarf, sweetheart.”

“You!” Cassandra turned her attention to the Champion, looming over her as a lion stands over its prey. “If someone hadn’t have tipped me off, I would have walked in here thinking you were just Rosalyn Amell, the woman I’ve worked with for years. But, no, I’ve been sat opposite the-”

“Alright that’s enough!” Hawke cried, raising her hand to silence Cassandra, who only seemed to grow more angry, moving herself closer to Hawke with her muscles tense, her eyes steely, until Hawke was forced to back away, one hand raised to stop the advancing Seeker, and the other placed protectively on her stomach, which Amelie now noticed stood out in the tell tell sign of early pregnancy. “You lay one finger on me and I swear on everything that is holy that you will not live to see next week.”

“Is that a threat?” Cassandra spat, backing off slightly, but maintaining her menacing air as she stared down her opponent.

“As if you haven’t been threatening me for the past few minutes?” Hawke laughed, a cool, icy laugh that only heightened the tension in the room, where everyone was now turned to the fighting match, their stares unbroken as it continued around them.

“I wouldn’t have to if you hadn’t hidden from me these last two years,” Cassandra said bitterly. “We needed you, we could’ve-”

“I know, I know,” Hawke interrupted, rolling her eyes. “You wanted me to join your little group. But the war is over, the truce was signed, and I have better ways to spend my time.”

“If you were with us, then-”

“I’m not interested,” Hawke sighed, dragging her feet closer to Cassandra with some reluctance. “And if you can’t get that message into your little brain, and you decide to threaten me and my unborn child again, either I will kill you, or I will send my possessed, apostate, husband to do it for me. Depends on what mood I’m in, I guess.”

Nothing else was said between the two women, all it took was a sweet smile from Hawke to send Cassandra skulking away to the group in the corner where the Qunari sat. Amelie was in awe, watching the woman saunter over to stand next to Varric, completely unaffected by her close call with the Divine’s Right Hand. 

More affected by this situation, was Dorian. A loud moan erupted from him as he sank in his bar stool next to her, his head burrowed in his hands as Varric cackled, holding his hand out to take the 10 _lions_. But it wasn’t the money that bothered Dorian.

“Good luck with the Iron Bull, Dorian,” Cullen said with a smile, patting Dorian on the back as Varric continued to laugh. Eventually, Dorian sunk off of his barstool and sneered at the the four of them, before dragging his feet across the bar to approach the so-called Iron Bull, who really did look like a bull, with his large size and his square horns. “That will teach him for betting against Hawke, I learnt that the hard way.”

“How do you-?” She began, before being interrupted by the cheerful voice of tonight's victor, Hawke.

“Mind if I sit here?” Hawke asked as she slid into the now vacant barstool on Amelie’s right side, her body slumping against the hard wooden back. “I'm not pregnant enough yet that I need to sit down 24/7 but it's a good enough excuse, right?”

“Of course,” Amelie said, throwing a smile at the woman who she was still in awe of after that fighting match. 

“So, Cullen,” Hawke said, adopting a sly smile as she looked him up and down with her big brown eyes. Amelie was taken aback, shocked that she would know who he was, let alone how she could address him in such a casual manner. But then she had known Cassandra… “You’re looking good, although I did like the curly hair.”

“Well he's all grown up now, Hawke,” Varric said, reaching out to pat Cullen’s shoulder, who threw him an impressive scowl. “He's even got himself a girlfriend.”

“I was wondering about that,” Hawke told them, her eyes falling back onto Amelie’s as she gave her a quick wink. “But I thought she was a bit pretty to fall for a guy like him.”

“You know, I'm just going to get abuse from you guys,” Cullen sighed, rolling his eyes at the chuckling Varric and the smirking Hawke. “I need to get some money, so I'm going to take Cassandra for a walk before she kills someone.” Amelie looked over at where she was sat in the corner of the bar, huddled in a group of laughing, drinking army types with a scowl that could kill a man. 

“Can you check on Dorian for me?” Amelie asked him, looking up at him with a sweet smile. “I’d feel responsible if he got hurt.”

“Actually…” He said, looking over her shoulder at the group behind them. “I think he's alright.”

Turning around, she followed Cullen’s gaze, her eyes catching a glimpse of the gigantic horns almost instantly. Soon there were all looking, their necks craned as they watched her friend cooing over the gigantic hulk of a man next to him, who had his big hands wrapped around his thigh. Next to her, Hawke laughed. She heard Varric mutter “Oh sweet Maker” beneath his breath. And, surprisingly, Cullen chuckled next to her, exhibiting a boyish grin as he watched the very public display of affection.

“Well that is one brave man,” Hawke laughed. “Someone buy that man a drink, he might need it later.”

“Alright I'm going to leave,” Cullen announced as Hawke and Varric dissolved into fits of laughter, accompanied by a few interesting hand gestures. “Be nice to Amelie, ok?” He smiled down at her, planting a kiss on her lips as the two continued their hysterics. But she didn't care about them, she didn't care about anything when she was with him. “I'll try not to be long,” He whispered, quiet enough that only she could hear, before he turned to leave.

“I'm a nice person!” Hawke called after him, looking mildly offended as she scoffed at Cullen’s retreating back. “So anyway,” She said, turning to Amelie with a twinkling smile. “I want to know all the details.”

“I don't kiss and tell,” Amelie said with a smile, raising her eyebrows at Hawke, who only laughed.

“You will when you've had a drink,” Varric said, waving around the 10 _lions_ that he'd won from Dorian. “What’s your poison?”

“Brandy, if you're paying,” She told him, earning an amused smile from the dwarf. 

“Good choice,” Hawke said, eyeing up the drink as the barman poured it into the glass with an expert hand. “Maker I miss drinking. And smoking, coffee, not feeling sick all the time, not feeling fat, wearing bras. Oh wait, no, I don't miss that.”

“Anyway,” Varric said hurriedly, passing the drink over to Amelie. “You were going to give us the dirt on Curly.”

“I shouldn’t-"

“Oh come on!” Hawke cried, urging her on with a firm pat on the shoulder. “Tell us all about the old Knight-Captain and his dirty secrets!”

Amelie froze. Forcing herself to swallow the brandy that was burning her mouth, she took in what she had heard. Knight-Captain. _Knight-Captain._ “Knight-Captain?” She asked finally.

“Yes…” Varric said, looking at her as if she were stupid. “Have you not read my book?”

“Not everyone reads your books, Varric,” Hawke told him with a sigh, turning her attention back to Amelie with earnest. “He was the Knight-Captain of Kirkwall when we were there. I presume he hasn't told you?”

“No,” She said, her voice firm as she swallowed back her concern, ignoring the pounding of her heart as her voice remained steady. “No he hasn't.”

“Oh shit,” Hawke gulped, sharing a look of unease with Varric before continuing. “Well I guess he wouldn't want people to know, it was a pretty tough time.”

“Know what?” Her voice was stern, her hands were shaking, clammy with sweat as her anxiety built up inside her, threatening to swallow her whole. 

“Well…” Varric said slowly, staring down at the drink in front of him. “He had to run the Gallows in the build up to the war, it wasn't easy, you know? We all do things we regret.”

“Varric, don't pull that shit,” Hawke scoffed, her eyes falling on Varric with a hint of fatigue. “My sister was in there, she still is, I know what it was like.”

“Yeah well he wasn't completely wrong, I mean, look what happened…”

“Leave Anders out if this, Varric,” Hawke snarled, rolling her eyes at him as she watched him drink. It was as if they'd forgotten she was there, bickering over the top of her head as she stood in stunned silence. She couldn't believe it, wouldn't believe it, not after spending the last few weeks in the company of the kindest man she'd met in a long time. No, it couldn't be true, and even if it was, he was just following orders. Right? 

“Anyway, he seems to be over that now,” Varric said calmly, earning a relieved sigh from Amelie. “He’s left the Templars now, it's all behind him. And you know what they're like, what Meredith was like, all the brainwashing and the lyrium. All that's behind him now.”

“Maybe so,” Hawke shrugged, dropping the tension between them within seconds. But then he was right, it was over, the war was over two years ago. What was important was that he wasn't in the Templars anymore. “But I'll never forget what he said, do you remember?” She asked, her lips contorting in a venomous sneer. “Mages, they're not people like you and me.”

That was when Amelie left. She finished her drink in one, slightly painful, gulp, slammed the glass down on the bar, and left.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back! It's been great taking a break but now we're back to weekly posting for the next 5 weeks. Also a note that these next few chapters will be shorter but that was a creative decision made to aid the pacing of the narrative, so you'll see a lot of chapters taking place over a short period of time coming up.
> 
> But anyway I hope you enjoyed the chapter and make sure you come back next week to see what happens next.


	12. The Just

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She ran out of the bar in a panic, now she has to face up to what she's learnt about the man she thought she knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said last week, I made the decision to effectively split one event into two. It was a creative decision to help with the pacing (i didn't think people would want to be bombarded with all this stuff going on and not have time to digest) but it does mean this chapter and the next are fairly short. After that, I should be getting back to the 2k+ chapters you guys are used to.

The snows of winter had arrived early this year. It fell in soft, small flakes around her, floating gently through the night air before disappearing on to the ground below her feet as she stood, still, silent, trying so hard to gather her thoughts as they whirled around her head in a dizzying blur. It was like catching your breath after a long run, except she never did much running, and she certainly hadn’t tonight. Instead, she blamed the oppressive heat of the bar, the bittersweet alcohol she had swallowed in earnest that swam around her veins and clouded her brain, and of course, those words she had heard, the ones which pierced her heart like a shard of ice. 

“Mages, they’re not people like you and me.”

The vision swam before her eyes. A younger Cullen, in the midnight black armour of the Templars, with a snarl and vicious frown, the words slipping out of him like a deadly poison oozes out of a glass vial. But there was more, because it was never just the words. The words were an expression of inner thought, justifying an action, a way of life. It’s easier to commit violence when you’re doing against someone who isn’t a person like you, less than you, a stain on society. 

It was how they all worked, especially here, Val Royeaux. And as she walked, she was only reminded of this fact. On every bus stop she passed, it was there, as always, following her as she went to work, the shops, home. The Templar with their gun poised, their eyes beady, their statue tall, menacing, on every poster on every bus stop in the city. 

_Champions of the just: keeping your city safe._

It would have made her laugh, if she wasn’t about ready to burst into tears. But she wouldn’t cry, she never did. All she had to do was be rational, she certainly hadn’t been when she stormed out of that bar. But then that was her problem, sometimes, she acted too rashly. Sometimes, the world got too much, and she snapped and, almost always, did something stupid.

Was this stupid? She couldn’t figure that one out. She’d relied on the word of a dwarf she didn’t know and the Champion of Kirkwall, not exactly reliable sources of information. And she was tipsy, to say the least, although most of it seemed to be hitting her now as she wandered down a slightly blurred road. Any rational person would have just waited there until he got back and asked him. But something had made her snap, fear, anger, a subconscious survival instinct, perhaps. And surely it was better to step back, think, rationalise, until she could speak to Cullen at a better time.

But did she want to? Did she want to hear his justification? His excuses? And, worst of all, would she be bound to tell him about her, what she was, the real reason she had escaped Ostwick and come to Val Royeaux? She couldn’t, she just couldn’t.

The words continued to run through her mind. Mages. People. _Champions of the just_. 

She remembered them from the war, the Templars, and they were far from just. They favoured guerilla tactics, hiding in bushes or on hill ranges far above a pack of travelling mages, where they could rain down hell upon their victims in the form of a flurry of bullets. They fought preemptively, that was how they were taught. Kill them before they can even think about killing you. That’s how they’d killed her uncle, a preemptive strike on a group of mages sat around a campfire eating their dinner. All she was told was that he had been found slumped on the ground with a bullet wound in his head and his dinner in his lap.

It was inaccurate to call it a war. It was a slaughter.

Her phone rang. With gloved hands fumbling inside the pockets of her coat, she eventually fished out the shrieking phone and, with some relief, saw that it was Dorian calling. Maker knows what she would have done if Cullen’s name had showed up. Would she answer it? She didn’t even know the answer to that question.

“Hey,” She said, speaking quietly into the phone as a loud voice shouted back at her, breaking the silence in the near empty street with an ear shattering ferocity.

“Where the hell are you?” He asked her, his voice frantic as he fought against the violent background noise of the bar. “Cullen just came up and asked about you. I said you had a family emergency.”

“Thanks,” She sighed, drawing her coat closer to her body as a fresh blast of icy air hit her. She was close to home now, she could feel it in the bitter cold air that coasted in from the sea as she approached the line of houses opposite the docks, where the gentle sound of the sea crashing against the shore broke through her clouded mind, and began to calm her.

“I figured it was something important,” Dorian continued, his voice quietening down as the background noise dropped. He seemed to be outside now, with just the murmur of voices and the odd blast of wind interrupting his speech. “What happened? I saw you at the bar with Hawke and then when I looked up, you were gone.”

“Give me a second,” She said as she approached her home, slamming the door behind her almost as soon as she crossed the threshold and entered her little world of safety. She sunk onto her sofa, still in her coat, hat and gloves, and breathed, taking in the still, warm air of her home, accompanied by the smell of flowers that emanated off of almost every fabric. It calmed her, soothed her, brought her back to a place where her mind could rest. “Cullen was a Templar, in _Kirkwall_.”

“You’re kidding?” Dorian scoffed. “I mean, I can see it, he’s got the stature. But you’re sure? Did he tell you this?”

“No, Hawke did,” She told him, feeling slightly stupid now that she was explaining it out loud. Maybe Hawke really wasn’t the best person to listen to, she hardly even knew the woman, who knows if she was telling the truth.

“Well I think you need to ask him yourself,” Dorian said, apparently the voice of reason despite the fact that he had been halfway to drunkeness when she’d seen him not twenty minutes ago. “Anyway, does it really matter?”

“Yes, it does actually,” She said, rolling her eyes and rubbing her temples with her free hand. “Especially when they don’t think that mages are people!”

“Did he say that?”

“Apparently!”

“Look,” Dorian began, his tone becoming as firm as it could whilst under the influence as a good amount of alcohol. “You need to ask him yourself. You can’t just abandon ship on the word of someone you don’t know.”

“Well what the hell do I say?” She asked, her voice desperate as she fought against the fatigue and the remnants of alcohol in her blood to try and think in a somewhat logical fashion. Maker, this was such a mess.

“Well you’ll have to tell him what you are, first,” Dorian said, she could imagine him shrugging, as if what he said was anything but dangerous.

“You want me to tell him that I am a mage?” She asked him, her voice shrill as she interrogated her friend down the phone. “After I just found out that he thinks that mages aren’t people?”

“He has a right to know,” 

“What if he calls the Templar’s on me?” She continued, her voice becoming more shrill as she ran her hands through her hair with worry. “I came here to get away from Templar’s, not walk right into the arms of one!”

 

“You’re overthinking this, Amelie,” Dorian sighed. “I mean, did you really think you could hide it forever? That he wouldn’t find out at some point?”

“I thought I could tell him, one day,” She said quietly, picking at a loose strand of fabric on her coat. “But then I never thought-” She paused, her words falling into silence as she heard a flurry of noise on the other side of the phone. “Dorian?” She got no answer, instead all she heard was a frantic mumble on the other end, as people apparently engaged in a heated discussion that she couldn’t quite make out. “Dorian what’s going on?”

“Amelie,” Dorian said slowly. “Don’t hate me-”

“What have you done?” She asked, her body freezing as she waited on his words.

“Cullen’s on his way,” Dorian said quickly, his voice somewhat apologetic as he spoke frantically. “He was asking where you were and he figured out you were on the phone, so I told him, I’m sorry.”

“I’m going to kill you,” She said, but all she heard was the low, steady beep of a dropped line. “DORIAN!” She cried down the phone, knowing full well that there was no way he could’ve heard. But she was frantic, a little bit tipsy, and frightened. 

Dorian had been right. He had a right to know, she couldn’t keep it secret forever. But the question was, was she ready? She had about fifteen minutes to decide, no, ten. But then he was faster than her anyway, would he run here? Would he be that desperate to confront her that he would sprint the short walk here? She hoped not, she prayed not. She needed all the time she could get. And time was ticking away with each second that she wasted worrying.

She had to think, plan, work out how the hell she was going to get through this. But there wasn’t enough time. All she knew was that, if she didn’t tell him, she’d be racked with guilt. But if she did, she may just be putting her life, her new life, with her new career and her new friends, on the line. It was a choice between doing the right thing, or taking the easy route, because the Maker could testify that it was sometimes easier to live a lie.

There was a knock at the door. Her time was up. She took a deep breath, standing up straight as the last remnants of brandy flooded to her brain, before heading towards the door and opening it slowly.

On the other side, Cullen looked haggard.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Same time next week for the next chapter and the culmination of all this business. So, sorry, but you'll have to wait a week to find out how this goes. Imagine me hiding behind a blanket whilst you guys read these chapters lol.


	13. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen stands on her doorstep, completely unaware of the truth she has been subjected to. But how will he react when she questions him about his past, and brings up her own?

“Everything ok?” Cullen asked, his words faltering as he spoke between panting breaths. “I was worried about you.”

No, she wanted to say. Everything was not ok. It was two in the morning, she was stood in her doorway with an icy wind blasting at her exposed face, and the man she had fallen for was stood on her doorstep completely oblivious to the fact that she had found out about his past, and freaked out to high heaven.

No, everything was not ok. But she couldn’t do this on her doorstep, with an icy wind battering at their coats and snow falling on his golden hair. “I’m sorry,” She said with a pained smile. “Come in.”

As she closed the door behind her, Cullen only grew more restless, looking her up and down, standing over her with a protective air, watching her, studying her. “What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice as soft as ever as he raised his hand to her cheek, trying to soothe her as she shook beneath his touch. She wanted so desperately to close her eyes, lean into his touch, fall into his embrace, but she couldn’t, shouldn’t. She put those thoughts at the back of her mind, replaced them with thoughts of Templars and the war and all the trials she had ever been forced to endure at their behest, and she pushed his hand away like it disgusted her. 

He was hurt, she could tell. Wounded, he retreated, clutching his hand to his chest as if he were protecting it, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he watched her with pained eyes. “I’m sorry,” She sighed, dragging her feet as she walked further into her home. “I really am,” She turned back to him, but this time it was her that looked pitiful, her eyes brimmed with tears that she simply couldn’t let escape. “Sit down, please?” She asked, indicating to the small dining table in the middle of her kitchen while she strode over to the small kitchen and poured herself a large glass of water.

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” He said, his words an order, but his tone soft, concerned, scared. “Has something happened?”

“No, I-” She began. But her words fell away into an exasperated sigh, her eyes turning downwards to stare at the table in front of her, preferring to watch the still, crystal clear water in her glass than look into his eyes, eyes that always trapped her, broke her, made her lose herself. But they wouldn’t this time. “I was speaking to Hawke at the bar. She...talked about you.”

“I see,”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Kirkwall?” She asked, her voice firm despite the shaking in her hands.

“I don’t see what difference it makes,” He snapped, his eyes piercing into her as he stared her down from across the table, framed by the vicious darkness of the room. “That was before the war, two and a half years ago.”

“It makes a difference to me,” She told him, raising her voice as she met his gaze with her own, steely glare. 

“You said you were in the war,” He reminded her, his expression turning to confusion as he leaned back in his chair, looking her up and down as if he were trying to figure her out. “I thought you’d understand.”

“Did you never think that maybe I fought for the other side?” She asked, her breath exhaling in an exasperated laugh as she shook her head at him. “Did you just presume that everyone who looks half normal and doesn’t carry a staff was one of you guys?”

“No!” He cried, crossing his arms defensively. “You just don’t ask these things. It’s no one else’s business what you did in the war, it’s history, now!”

“Not for some people,” She muttered.

“So, what, you just walked off and left me because of this?” He asked, his voice growing erratic as he threw his words at her like daggers to the heart. “You actually want to make this an issue? Something that happened over two years ago? A dispute over ideology?”

“It’s not just ideology, Cullen,” She sighed. They’d said all this stuff, got to this point, and yet somehow, she didn’t think he’d grasped it, understood exactly what bothered her. Why this was an issue, why she couldn’t just let this slide, live with this like a normal person would. Because she wasn’t normal. “It’s my life.”

He paused, just for a second, narrowing his eyes at her as her words left her mouth. “What does that mean?” He asked, his words laden with confusion. But she found she couldn't answer. Maker knows she wanted to, she just couldn't. Words failed her. So she did the next best thing, at least, that’s what she thought at the time. She took a deep breath, looking down at her hand as it rested in her lap, watched it as it began to glow with a pale blue hue. She looked up, her eyes met Cullen’s, and then she lunged.

The glass of water shattered, collapsing under the weight of water turned ice. Cullen froze in front of her, mirroring the pillar of ice that now stood between them, before jumping back out of his seat, launching himself away from the table, and away from her. His mouth was open with shock, his chest bursting with panting breaths, his eyes locked in a gaze that was unmistakable for anything but fear. 

Fear. It wasn’t what she had expected. She had expected anger, disgust, hatred. But not fear. She had no idea what to do with fear. So she just sat in silence, watching him, waiting for him to make a move. But he didn’t, he just stood there looking at her in the darkness, his gaze moving from the shattered vase to her, and then back again. 

There was a better way she could have done this, she’d certainly seen it going much smoother. But that was how it always went, she saw herself being mature, reserved, logical, but then when it came to it, she was a slave to her emotions, emotions which bubbled up inside her with a rising vigour until they burst.

“I’m sorry it had to be like this,” She said eventually, her words escaping in a sigh as she raised a hand to her forehead, massaging away her troubles as she rubbed at the soft skin. 

“When were you going to tell me?” He asked, his fear turning to anger as he rounded on her with wild, vicious eyes. He was animalistic in his approach, his snarl, his shaking form. But it didn’t scare her, it only angered her.

“When were you going to tell me about Kirkwall?” She countered. She knew it was stupid, that her stubborn nature was winning over once again. It was the same with her father, why the bridge between them continued to exist. But she couldn’t help it, she just couldn’t back down, and she wouldn’t now. 

“Me?” He cried. “I was a Templar, yes, but that was almost three years ago. I pulled out before the war even started, I don’t even take the lyrium anymore. But you…”

“I’m what?” She said abruptly before her words turned to a whisper. “Mage blooded? Cursed? Dangerous?”

“I wasn’t going to-”

“Whatever,” She brushed him off, turning her face away from him to stare at the broken pieces of glass that were scattered along the floor beneath the table. “Can you still trust me, after this?” She asked, looking back up at him, pleading, begging him to say yes. Because, in reality, she didn’t want him to leave, didn’t want to spoil what they had. She had spent the last few weeks pretending she was normal, to him, and her friends. And she’d succeeded. She could have kept doing that now, except she knew it was wrong, that was what had driven her to act. But, Maker, this was hard.

“Can I trust you?” He asked with a sigh, his brows furrowed as he ran an exasperated hand through his hair before rubbing the back of his neck. “We were...something, for weeks. And you never told me.” He sounded sad, betrayed, hurt. And she had done this to him. “Have you told anyone? Any of your friends? Did you lie to them too?”

“You know the laws, Cullen,” She sighed, leaning back in her chair as she looked up at him with sad, desperate eyes. 

“Yeah, I do, actually,” He said with an assertive air, straightening his back as he caught her gaze. “Magi Assimilation in Society Act of 9:41 states that no one can discriminate based on magical status.”

“What about the International Security Acts of, what, six months ago?” She offered, folding her arms as she stared him down. “Someone who becomes aware of a potential mage threat must inform their local Templar branch.” She cited, a phrase she had heard repeated again and again on the news before coming here, a phrase which sickened her to the bone, the same phrase that brought her here in the first place. In Ostwick, she was a potential threat. But here? She was just another academic at the university, a friendly neighbour, or a stranger. That was where she was safest. “I could continue but I won’t. Basically, if I go around telling everyone that I’m a threat to their livelihood then I’ll wind up back in Ostwick or, worse, the White Spire.”

“But this changes so much...” He began, but she cut him off.

“I’m still the same person,” She rose from her chair, approaching him slowly, carefully, reaching out a hand to touch his arm. But he stepped back, raising his arms defensively as he pulled away.

“You don’t know,” He sighed, pulling his gaze away from hers. “You don’t know what they did to me.” He turned away from her, marching away out of the kitchen with some speed as she desperately tried to keep up with him, reaching out a hand to grab his arm in a desperate attempt to hold him, keep him, prevent him from slipping from his grasp. But it was hopeless.

“Cullen!” She cried, her words halting him in his tracks as he stood in by her front door, his hand still and unmoving as it grasped at the doorknob. It seemed like he was going to turn, his head moving slightly to look over his shoulder as she stood behind him in the darkness. “Please,” She whispered her final plea, her last chance, her desperate attempt to reconcile what they lost.

He remained still, looking at her with golden eyes that appeared fragile, broken, pitiful, before his lips parted in a sigh, and he made his judgement. 

“Goodbye, Amelie,”

The door slammed behind him as he left, and she was alone, in a building that had never before seemed so dark, so silent, so empty. And that was when the tears began to fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one thing I want to say about this chapter and some of the next. I really love hearing your comments and having chats with you about what you're thinking and feeling but if you follow my Tumblr you may or may not know that I had relationship issues myself very recently and the feelings are still very raw from that. But because this was something which I had planned to happen from the start, and it made literally no sense to remove it from the story because everything would be messed up and there would be no dramatic tension, I kept it in. It was very hard for me to write and even revisit (I did a skim read and changed one or two things but there may be a few errors every now and then) and although I will see your comments in my emails, I may be very slow to reply or I may choose not to. That's just because I pulled a lot from my own emotions and experiences especially in the beginning of next week's chapter and it was really draining. But I do really appreciate your support, you're all really amazing readers and I love reading your comments, so thank you everyone!  
> PS I may be more inclined to answer questions on my Tumblr blog if you're super desperate


	14. Aftershock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, it's the morning after the night before. But, this time, the night before was far less pleasant. Amelie has to process what happened to her, and think about whether she can continue to live her life as a lie.

Her sleep was blissful, pure, her mind wandering through a rather foggy version of the Fade, untroubled by any pain or misery in a world that was all good, all kind, all loving.

Then she woke up, and for a brief second or two, she was ok. But then all the problems of the world fell upon her at once, crushing her like a tonne of bricks as she curled into a ball beneath her covers, wishing that she could return to that place, the happy place, and never have to come back here again.

But she couldn't. This was her world, and it hurt.

The problem was that she had neglected to finish her bout of tears the night before, choosing instead to lull herself into a peaceful sleep before the cascade had ended in the hopes that, when she woke, she would have forgotten everything that had happened. But it didn’t work. Now her mind wandered back to the night before and, once again, a waterfall of tears streamed down her face, burning her skin as they fell one after another, falling and falling until all she could do was curl up under the duvet where no one could see her, hear her, hurt her. She was safe here, and she was alone. But that wasn’t so bad. Sometimes it was good to be alone. No one could bother her, judge her, ask her questions and tell her it would be ok, that she would move on, that there would be someone else out there, someone better.

But she didn’t want to be ok. She didn’t want to move on. And, right now at least, she didn’t want someone better.

Soon the corner of the duvet she had curled up in was sodden with bitter, salty tears, and that’s when she decided to crawl out of her bed and shuffle across the hall to the shower. At least if she cried in the shower, no one would see the tears. She had to make herself somewhat presentable, anyway, there was no way she could leave the trails of mascara on her face when her brother showed up. Although she was in half a mind to tell him to go away, but then he could be landing by now, it wasn’t exactly a good time for him to turn around and go home again. And anyway, it forced her to actually get up and make herself look like a living being, to some extent.

The shower was refreshing. As the remnants of last night’s make up flooded off of her skin, as she ran her hands through her hair and washed away the traces of hair product, as the tears which stained her face dissolved slowly beneath the cascade of water, it was like she was born anew, stepping away from the events of the night before and freeing herself of the pain. She could step out of here, put on some nice clothes and brush her hair until it was soft and fluffy, and start the day again. She was determined, she was resolute, but then she stepped back into her room and, out of habit, reached for her onesie, and the smell hit her so strong that she thought she would pass out. 

It wasn’t a pleasant smell, sweat, tobacco, a strong whiff of men’s deodorant, but it caught her off guard. She stood, barely clothed, with the onesie in her hands, and her heart broke into a million pieces once again. But she didn’t cry, she had run out of tears, and so the grief just boiled up inside of her, churning and twisting until it found itself as anger. Pure, uncontrollable, anger. A ball of flame erupted in her right hand, the onesie in her left, the two standing perilously close to one another as her heart burned with pain, her eyes furrowed in a bitter frown, her lips curled in a snarl. 

And then the flame extinguished. And she slumped forward, her face burrowed in the soft fabric, its pungent smell filling her nostrils. But she was still angry. She stormed across the room towards the open window and, with very little thought, flung the onesie out onto the path below, where it floated through the air like a delicate blue ribbon. She didn’t watch it hit the ground, she turned away, grabbing some fresh clothes and beginning to dress herself, but she was interrupted by a loud cry from outside her house.

“Hey! Do you mind?” A male voice called, his voice floating in through the open window as she hurried to dress herself. With her blouse half buttoned, she peered through the window pane, and saw her brother standing with his suitcase in one hand and the onesie in another. “I come all the way down here, buy myself a first class ticket, and when I get here, you decide to throw a smelly old onesie at me?”

“I didn't know you were there!” She cried, poking her head out of the open window. “Anyway it's _my_ onesie.”

“Then why are you throwing it out of a window?” He asked her, looking up at her with a confused expression. 

“Oh just get inside!” She practically ran out of the room and down the stairs, fixing the buttons on her blouse as she marched through her home and towards the front door, which she opened with the same urgency with which Cullen had slammed it in her face the night before. “Sorry about that.”

“You should be!” He marched through the front door like he owned the place, as he always did. “You look like shit.” He told her as he looked her up and down.

“Great, thanks,” She rolled her eyes, as she reached for the onesie in his hand. But then she noticed something else there, too, hidden behind the bright blue fabric. “What’s that?”

“These?” He passed her the bundle of what she soon realised was more fabric, knitted fabric, specifically. “They were left on your doorstep.”

“Oh,” She sighed as she removed the blue onesie and saw what was underneath, the knitted blanket she had given to Cullen, and the pink one that his dog loved so much. Without even thinking, she raised the bundle to her face, borrowing her nose into the soft fabric. The smell hit her at once, overwhelmed her, sending a strange warmth through her bones that comforted her. But then it grew cold, bitter cold, and suddenly she wasn't comforted anymore. But she couldn't let go, it was like a curse.

“Amy,” Lionel said, his words cutting through the chill. “Give me the blankets.”

“What?”

“We're going to do a cleanse, wash everything that he touched, get rid of anything he bought for you,” He declared, his voice sympathetic as he reached out to take the blankets from her. “It will help.”

But she didn't want to. She clutched them her chest, clinging to the fabric like her life depended on it. It was silly, but to her, it was like he was still here, like she was clutching hold of him.

“Amelie Louise Trevelyan,” Lionel’s voice was stern now, but it was clearly an effort for him. Maker, the thought of him actually trying to discipline his children made her want to laugh, if she was capable of doing so. “Give me the blankets _and_ the onesie.”

Reluctantly, she handed them over, and the onesie, surrendering to her brother and his common sense. He was right, she would find no comfort clinging to his memory like that. He had walked out, He had left, and that was that, however much she may hate it.

“Anything else?” She shook her head, feeling very small and timid as he marched off to the kitchen with the blankets. “Oh by the way, how does the washing machine work?”

“What?” She cried, marching into the kitchen behind him as he stood facing her units. “Well first of all, that's the dishwasher.”

“Oh,” He turned his head, this time approaching the right appliance, where he knelt in front of it with a concerned look on his face.

“Just let me do it,” She sighed, taking the clothes from his arms and shoving them in the machine before she could change her mind. “Pass the soap.”

“This?” He gestured to the bottle on the side, which was clearly labelled ‘washing detergent’ and had a picture of a smiling baby on the front, which he passed over to her after her enthusiastic nod. “Do you use baby soap?”

“Yes and I'm not ashamed of that,” She said bluntly as she poured the soap into the drawer. “I have sensitive skin. And it smells nice.”

“Ok, whatever,” He said with a laugh, looking down at her with a smirk as he leant against her kitchen counter. But his eyes portrayed a different air, they looked at her with concern, a soft, hazel-green pool of despair that echoed her own. Then she blinked, and the sadness disappeared, replaced by the eager friendliness she was used to seeing when she was with him. It was like a switch had flicked in his brain, a switch which let him turn off his emotions and present himself to the world as a carefree, joking, happy, man. Maybe she needed something like that. “Why don't we order some food?” He suggested. “Unless you have anything else you need to cleanse yourself of?”

“No, not really,” She said, shrugging her shoulder. “And I am really hungry.”

Soon they found themselves collapsed into her sofa with their heads resting against the soft cushions and their mouths full of chicken, whilst awful TV programs played back to back on the screen in front of them. In all honesty, she hadn't planned for this, the phone call she’d made to her brother at 3am had been entirely influenced by the drink and the tears and had in no way been planned. In fact, she had pictured her spending the day with no clothes on watching sad films. But this wasn't so bad, and she found herself becoming incredibly grateful for her brother's presence.

“Thank you for coming,” She said to him between mouthfuls of fried chicken. “You didn't have to drop everything and come down here.”

“Yeah well,” He shrugged, looking over at her briefly before diving into the box of fries. “I have nothing else to do and no shortage of money. And you needed the company.”

“Are you calling me a charity case?” She cried, hitting her brother gently on the shoulder. 

“Well they do say you should use your privilege to help the less fortunate,” He said, looking over at her with what she thought were meant to be sympathetic eyes, before reaching over to steal some fries from her box. 

“You're terrible,” She said, reprimanding him with a playful whack of his hand as it disappeared into her fries. “You know our uncle used to say that, and he actually meant it!”

“Yeah because he actually had morals,” Lionel said with a shrug. “I'm the spoilt son of a Bann who just wants to steal your food. Are you eating that chicken?”

“Yes I am eating that chicken!” She told him, before her mind went back their uncle, those words he told her all those years ago. “I guess he’d be pretty disappointed me.”

“Why do you say that?” He asked her with his mouth full of fries, his attention drawn to his phone as it buzzed in his hand.

“Because he always said to be proud of who we were, use our status to do what was right. And all I've done is come here and try to hide from it all,” She said quietly, her words almost a whisper. “I wanted to start again, you know? Just have a normal life.”

“Yeah, I know,” He sighed, his gaze dropping to his lap momentarily, before he brought his eyes up to hers, engaging her with a cold, determined stare. “You know what else I know?”

“What’s that?”

“That you can’t just hide from what you are,” He told her, his eyes fixed in hers, his gaze strong and unbroken as he stared her down. It was rare to see him so serious, but then again, this was his expertise, hiding, pretending, putting on a front to the rest of the world whilst the truth bubbled away angrily inside. He was just better at it than she was. “I know that's what you wanted when you came here. But you just...can't,”

“I never thought you’d get all serious on me,” She smiled at him, teasing him and his stern words. But he was right, and Maker knows he knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Someone had to,” He shrugged, returning his attention to his phone “Would you rather I go back to stealing your fries and laughing at you for using baby soap?”

“Laugh at me all you like,” She told him with a nonchalant air as she placed the empty takeaway boxes on the coffee table. “But my soap smells amazing. And I've finished my fries.”

He scoffed at her, before he too rid himself of his empty takeaway boxes and relaxed into her sofa with his phone in his hand and his feet perched on her coffee table. She found herself watching her brother for a brief second as he typed away on his phone, before a strange, primal instinct took over, and she shuffled closer on the sofa ever so slightly. He didn't even notice, not until she curled herself up under his arm and wrapped her hands around his skinny waist. She felt his whole body froze, but it didn't bother her, all she wanted, needed, was that warmth, that comfort, of a person she cared about closing themselves around her.

“Thank you for coming,” She whispered into the thick wool of his jumper, and for a minute, she thought he hadn't heard. But then his frozen body relaxed, his arm closed around her back, and she felt his head rest upon the soft red hair on her head. 

The nobility of Thedas raise their children to be cold, reserved, resolute in the face of hardship and unaffected by the petty emotions felt by the masses. But they often forgot that, sometimes, those children need love, affection, a place to feel safe. And here, for the first time in twenty or so years, the two eldest children of Ferdinand and Corrine Trevelyan felt comfortable together, safe, cared for, loved.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that's almost it for the sad, to some extent, so well done for getting through! Same time next week for chapter 15, which will be the last of this little section before i take my break for finals. Thanks for your reading and all of your support, it means a lot <3


	15. The Woman in Black and Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelie has been trying to move on with her life, and is trying to carry on as normal. But someone has been trying to find her, someone she would rather not see again after the events in the bar one week ago.

A high pitched twinkle heralded her entrance into the strangest shop in Val Royeaux, followed by the excited squeal of one of the shop owners, who was perched on the counter doodling in a sketchbook. 

“It’s Amy-wamy!” Sera cried, leaping off of the counter and rushing to poke her head through the door at the back of the shop, which almost always billowed with a thick black smoke. “Dagna! She’s here!”

“Oh great!” Dagna squealed, poking her soot covered head out of the doorway. “Come back here, I need to show you something.”

“It’s illegal, isn’t it,” She sighed, walking across the shop floor with some reluctance. 

“I wouldn’t call you all the way down here to look at something _legal_ ,” Dagna rolled her eyes, before taking a brief look at the empty shop behind her. “Come inside! Sorry about the soot, I was burning stuff again.”

“It’s fine,” She spluttered through a series of heaving coughs as the heavy smoke which billowed from a small furnace in the corner of the room filled her lungs. “Can’t you open a window?”

“Well if I have to,” Dagna sighed, reaching up to heave open the tiny window at the back of the workshop. With the smoke clearing, she turned to Amelie, her eyes alight as she practically jumped up and down in excitement. “Anyway, I haven’t seen you in ages, where’ve you been?”

“She’s been fucking that army boy,” Sera called from the shop front. “That’s what I’ve heard, anyway.”

“How did you hear that?” She asked, poking her head back through the door to look at Sera, who was sat nonchalantly behind the counter painting her nails in a bright array of colours. 

“From my friends,” She said, winking at Amelie before returning to her nails. 

“Well, anyway,” She said, turning back to Dagna, who was hunched over a large box of bolts and scraps of metal and things she had never seen before, which all came flying out as she rummaged through. “I’m not anymore.”

“Oh,” Dagna stopped rummaging, but only momentarily, her head popping up for a few seconds before returning to the pile with a murmur of “it’s in here somewhere”. 

“Yeah, turns out he doesn’t like mages,” Amelie told her, brushing the dust off of Dagna’s desk before planting herself down on the thick, ancient wood. “And he’s an ex-Templar, and apparently a pretty ruthless one.”

“Well that’s awkward,” Dagna scoffed, her rummaging turning more frantic as she delved deeper into the box, before her head popped up with a triumphant grin as she presented a piece of what looked like old, lumpy metal. “I found it!”

“What is it?” She asked, peering across at where Dagna sat on the floor revelling in her victory. “What am I looking at?”

“This!” She thrust the metal object into her hands, where she saw that it wasn’t just a lump of old metal. It was a sword hilt, worn with age, but shaped with the distinctive handle and crossguard of a sword. Except it wasn’t just a hilt.

“This is a Knight-Enchanter hilt.” Amelie whispered, eyes alight with an excitement which quickly turned to panic. “Where the hell did you get this and why is it in your workshop?”

“Oh you know me,” Dagna said breezily, shrugging her shoulders as if breaking the law and risking everyone’s livelihood wasn’t at all an issue. “I wanted to see if you knew how to work it. That’s why I asked you to come.”

“Of course I do,” She said, running her fingers over the worn design of the hilt. WHat was once possibly the intricate design of a blacksmith, made to represent the holder of the sword, or the Circle or family they came from, they now sat as worn lumps and bumps of metal that felt smooth to the touch. As her fingers moved to grip the handle, she remarked at how familiar it felt in her hand, how normal it seemed to be holding such a simple, yet powerful, object in her grip. “I was a Knight-Enchanter.”

“Seriously?” Dagna asked, her eyes widening as she bounced with excitement. “You can make it work?”

“Yeah, not for long, though. Stand back,” She told her, launching off of the desk and holding the hilt in her left hand. This was very wrong, and if anyone found out, she would get arrested or, worse, be sent back to Ostwick. But then what had her brother told her? Stop hiding, stop pretending you’re something else, stop being scared of people finding out. And, anyway, it would be fun.

It was easier than she expected, bringing the sword to life after all these years. But soon, the room glowed with an iridescent white aura as she held the hilt out in front of her, the shadows around them fading as she brought forth a light so strong that it filled the room with its brilliance.

“Holy shit,” Dagna whispered beside her, her eyes wide as she stared at the magic in front of her. “That’s so cool!” She rushed forward to study the hilt as Amelie extinguished the blade, her lack of practice showing in the shaking of her hand and the desperation of her panting breaths. She slumped back down on the desk as she caught her breath, watching Dagna peer at the hilt from all angles as she twisted it in front of her face, before bringing it down to her side and turning her attention back to her. “Don’t you miss it, the magic and all of that?”

“Yeah, of course,” She shrugged, looking down at her hands as they sat in her lap, hands which were capable of bringing so much wonder into this world, and yet apparently danger. “But it’s a small price to pay for freedom.”

“I wouldn’t call it freedom,” Dagna said, looking down at the hilt as it sat in her hands. “Do you want to keep this?” Amelie went to interject, but she cut her off. “I know it’s illegal! But you’re keeping a staff in your house anyway! And it’s more useful with you than me.”

“Dagna-”

“Please!” She begged, her eyes wide as she held out the hilt with open hands. “There’s lots of people out there like your ex-boyfriend who don’t like people like you. It would be good to be able to protect yourself, right?”

“Dagna he would never have hurt me,” She assured her, but, regardless, she pressed the hilt into her palm, closing her fingers around the cold metal with her much smaller ones. It was odd, she could have resisted, but she didn’t, a large part of her _wanting_ to take the illegal object from her friend. Perhaps it was the hangover from the breakup, perhaps it was her brother’s wise words or Dagna’s insistence. Or perhaps she just didn’t care anymore. She took it,placing it into her handbag beneath some hand cream and a packet of tissues.

“Thank you,” Dagna smiled, grabbing Amelie and pulling her into a tight hug, her head squashed into her stomach as she held her so tightly that she thought she would be crushed to death. But their moment was interrupted by the gentle twinkle of a bell, a sound that could only mean that someone had, voluntarily, walked into the shop.

The two girls poked their head around the door, but as soon as Amelie saw the jet black hair and bright red lipstick, she retreated at once, shooting back into the office with her back pressed against the wall. “Dagna,” She whispered, prodding her friend in the arm until she got her attention. “It’s Hawke,”

“Hawke?” She muttered, looking at Amelie with a confused glare. 

“The Champion of Kirkwall,” She mouthed silently, earning a look of realisation before she turned back to the door again, her head peering out of the door with little subtlety.

“Didn’t realise she would be so cute,” Dagna observed, turning back to Amelie briefly, before returning to her watch.

“Hey, sweetheart,” She heard Hawke say, presumably to Sera. “Did a pretty looking ginger girl come in here today? Tall, posh sounding name, _even_ more posh accent? Kind of looks like the Maker spewed out another holy Andraste, but more freckly.”

“Depends who’s asking,” Sera told her. “And depends if I can be arsed to help.”

“Alright whatever,” Hawke sighed. “Just let her know I want to speak to her. I know where she works, so I’ll just turn up before the end of the week, ok?”

“Right,”

“Also, how much is that painting of a cat dressed as the Divine?” She asked, in a surprisingly serious tone. “I feel like my husband will love it, and I did say I’d get him a present.”

“Don’t know, but it’s an original,” Sera told her. 

“Who’s the artist?” Hawke asked, sounding genuinely interested, to Amelie’s surprise. Most of the artwork in the shop was Sera’s, and she was very talented. But it was very, very weird.

“Me of course!” 

“Oh you’re so talented!” Hawke cooed. “I’ll give you 30 _lions_ for it because you’re cute too.”

“What?! That’s awesome,” Sera cried.

“Anyway, pass that message on, yeah?” Hawke said, before the bell of the shop door was heard not moments later. Slowly, Dagna and Amelie crept their way back into the shop to find a stricken Sera leaning back against the wall of the shop. 

“What do you think Hawke wanted with Amelie?” Dagna asked, prodding Sera with her finger until she elicited a response.

“I don’t know,” Sera whispered, her eyes wide as she stared at the floor in front of her. “But she was so hot.”

“Oh I know!” Dagna cried, fanning Sera’s blushing face with one of the pages of doodles she had been completing earlier. “Weird that she wanted you though, Amelie.” She said, turning to her momentarily. “But oh well, she gave us 30 _lions_! What are we going to spend that on?”

“That’s fine I’ll just deal with that problem myself, then,” Amelie said, rolling her eyes at the pair of lovestruck girls who had turned to staring at the wad of money in front of them. 

“Ok bye,” They chanted in unison as she swept out of the shop, keeping her face hidden behind her tangle of red hair as she marched down the street, leaving the market square behind her as she tried her hardest not to run at full speed back to the safety of her home. 

\-----

She had no idea what Rosa Hawke wanted with her, and she didn’t particularly wanted to talk to her. But she got the impression that, with Hawke, you didn’t get much of a choice. As she found out on Friday afternoon, just as she was getting ready to end the working day spend a nice, relaxing evening at home to forget about the activity she would normally be doing on a Friday. 

But the world always liked to take her plans and tear them up in front of her face.

A sharp knock on her office door pulled her away from her pile of Satinalia marking, allowing her to breath a sigh of relief and relax back into her slightly uncomfortable office chair. 

“Come in,” She said in a sing song voice, her eyes staring up at the ceiling as she heard the door creak open. But then she remembered something, a conversation from some days ago now. 

_“I know where she works, so I'll just turn up before the end of the week, ok?”_

And now it was the end of the week, and Hawke was standing in her doorway, her hand pressed against the door frame as she peered into the room with a cautious air, dressed in clothes she would never have imagined her wearing, a smart, albeit black, suit, and a very minimal amount of makeup. If it weren't for the premonition she had received from this very woman some days earlier, she could have mistaken her for someone else.

“Hey, pretty girl,” She said, cocking her head and pursing her lips into the shadow of a smile. “Free for a chat?”

“How did you know where to find me?” Amelie asked with a sigh, looking over Hawke with narrowed eyes. In all honesty, she was more interested in the why, but, then again, it always good to know how someone she hardly knew had found her so easily. Maybe she should check the university website…

“I'm pretty good at that kind of stuff,” Hawke told her, her gaze dropping to the floor as she kicked at the carpet with her heeled boot. “And I have good friends. Well, not _good_ , just useful.”

“What do you want?” She asked, her tone brisk as she indicated to the pile of paper she would be marking over the winter break. “I am busy.”

“Two things: first of all, I need to apologise,” She said, bringing her hands in front of her and playing with a ring on her left hand, presumably a wedding ring. “For the other night.”

“ _You're_ not the one who should be apologising,” She told her, looking at her with raised eyebrows. But all she got was a smirk.

“No way,” Hawke said, looking up at her and shaking her head, her jet black hair falling into her eyes and covering her small round face. “I've caused too much trouble in too many places, and have gotten away with it far too many times. Let me have this.”

“Alright,” She said, throwing her a defeated smile. “I'll hear you out.” She indicated to the chair beside her, one which rarely got used because, in all honesty, there was no need for anyone to come to her office. She wasn't important enough yet for visitors. “But sit down first.’

“Thanks!” She sighed, sauntering across the room and collapsing into the vacant chair. “My feet are killing me in these shoes.” She rubbed her toes through the leather, running her thumb along the point of her shoe. “This is why I never dress like this. Maker I'm glad I never have to go to one of those committee meetings again.”

“You quit?” She asked politely, leaning back in her chair and glancing at the clock on her desk. Only 10 minutes until the day was over, and she had somehow become embroiled in...whatever this was. 

“I've been waiting to quit for two years,” Hawke scoffed, crossing her legs as she lounged in her chair. “Now my servitude is over, and I have a good excuse.” Her hand fell to her stomach. “They all agreed that no one wanted a baby sat on the council. And I argued that that would be breaking the secrecy clause so…” She raised her middle finger at the air, as if she were scolding the heavens themselves. “Fuck them.”

“If you were that desperate to leave, why did you stay?” She asked, more out of politeness than anything else, but then she was mildly curious. She got that from her sister, or more accurately, their mother.

“Because they made me,” She shrugged, playing with a strand of hair. “I didn't choose to go there in the first place. I'd tell you, but that's not what I'm here for. And I'd be breaking the secrecy clause and they might get me killed.”

“They can do that?” Her impression of the assimilation committee was that they were neutral and above reproach, a council of bureaucrats who provided some common sense to the post-war world. But apparently, she had been wrong.

“Oh yes, indirectly. They can lower the protection they've been putting on me and Anders for two years, anyway. Except I never told you that.” She looked up at her with large, chestnut brown eyes, throwing her a faint, exhausted smile before looking back down at her lap. “Anyway, back to business: I am sorry about last week. It wasn't my place to tell you… that stuff.”

“I would have found out eventually,” She shrugged, and this time it was her who dropped her gaze as she pulled at a loose strand of fabric in her black work trousers. “You just saved me some time, I guess.”

“Well it was up to him to do that, not me,” She said with a faint smile. “I tend to overstep my mark when I get worked up.” She dropped her gaze again, a faint hint of colour rising to her cheeks. “I am so sorry, I hope I didn't cause any trouble between the two of you.”

Silence was her answer. The two women stared at each other for some time, with Amelie’s gaze dropping only at the last second as she bit her lips and returned to the lose strand of fabric she had been picking at.

“And so I guess that brings me to point two,” Hawke sighed, staring back down at her wedding ring, which she span around the base if her finger with her thumb.

“And dare I ask what point two is?” She asked.

“Well what I _was_ going to say,” She began, framing her words with an awkward cough as she ran her hands through her hair. “Was don't let me make you think that Cullen is some kind of, I don't know, evil monster.” She stopped, leaning forward in her seat and placing a delicate hand upon her own, her brown eyes staring into Amelie’s soul as she spoke her soft, gentle words. “He saved my life, sweetheart. He could have killed me in Kirkwall, but he let me and my apostate husband go. I saw him turn his back on his own Knight-Commander, on everything he was taught.” She smiled at her then, squeezing her hand ever so slightly. “I know you're a mage, Ms Trevelyan, but don't let that come between you. Don't hate him.”

“I don't,” The words spilled out of her mouth before she could stop them, her fingers beginning to tremble in Hawke's grip as she spoke. “But I think he hates me.”

“I'm sure he doesn't,” She said, although Amelie was sure that she didn't sound convinced. “If he does then I guess you're better off alone. But if he doesn't, which is more likely, then he will come back.”

“I don't know, it got pretty nasty,” Amelie murmured, leaning away from her touch. “But what I would _like_ to know is how you know so much about me. Where I work, What I-"

“What you are?” She interjected, seeming almost amused by her questions. “Lucky guess, actually. I mean, no one actually cares about the mages and the Templars except, well, mages and Templars. Which is exactly the committee’s problem.” Hawke sighed, before gathering her handbag and readying herself to leave. “But anyway, if you talk to him, he will come round. 

“And how do you know that?” Amelie asked, her lips almost forming a smile as she watched the woman turn at her words, looking down on her with a sweet smile and wide eyes.

“Lucky guess,” She said with a smile, before extending her hand, which Amelie shook somewhat timidly. “It was good to meet you, Ms Trevelyan.”

“Amelie,” She corrected. She hardly knew the woman, and the impression she had gotten last week wasn’t exactly one that would make her desperate for kinship. But she respected what she had done here today, it took a lot of guts to admit you were wrong, something Amelie knew very well. “Good luck with everything, and happy Satinalia.”

“Happy Satinalia, Amelie, it was lovely to meet you,” Hawke gave her a grin, before turning to leave the office, leaving the door open behind her so that, just as Amelie thought she had some peace, Josephine poked her head in the door.

“Amelie!” Josephine cried, throwing her long black hair over her shoulder. “Time to go drinking. But, don't worry, we will go somewhere else this week.” She smiled at her eagerly, but with an air of sympathy. “We’ll make you forget all about that army man, don’t worry,”

“Sounds good!” Throwing her Satinalia marking into her satchel, she followed Josephine out of the door, and all the way into town and into a bar she had never stepped foot in before which, thankfully, was void of army types and ex-Templars. 

That was how she was going to spend this Friday, and that was how she was going to welcome in the Satinalia holiday, with a lot of drink, and a very very sore head the next morning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! There will be no new chapter for about 2 weeks while I study for my final exam, but then we get on to the bit I've been most excited to write since I started so I am very very excited for exams to be over! And after that, it will get a whole lot less plot fillery and more of a payoff for everything we've been reading these past few months. So I'm super buzzed, because I love this project and I love everyone that follows along! Lots of love <3


	16. At the Bus Stop Down the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satinalia has come to Thedas, and Amelie is returning to Ostwick to spend the holiday with her family. But as she waits at the bus stop down the road, a familiar voice calls her name.

Waking up this Saturday had been, somehow, far worse than waking up the previous week. Sure, she wasn't crying, but her head screamed with pain everytime she moved, breathed, or even looked in the general direction of the sun, which blasted through her bedroom window with such an intensity that she could have mistaken it for summer. But it wasn't, the snow was thick on the ground, and the house was blissfully cold as she sulked her way to the bathroom, where she sat on the floor of the bath for some time whilst a gentle trickle of cold water fell down upon her.

Maker, last night was a mistake. Albeit, she had made much bigger mistakes on nights out in Val Royeaux, but she regretted it nonetheless. All she was thankful for was that she had woken up to see an empty bed beside her. She would not be making that mistake again, that was for sure. In fact, when she had kissed someone last night, she had practically ran away and hid from them until it was time to leave. Maker knows who that was, but she didn't care anymore. Her main concern right was packing all her things and getting herself to Ostwick.

She was dreading it, not just the journey there, with the crowded airport and the miserable flight, but the whole thought of spending a whole week in Ostwick with her family. And then, after Satinalia had come and gone, coming back with her brother and sister for the winter ball.

On top of the vicious remnants of alcohol in her system, it was enough to make her head burst.

Slowly, she pulled herself together, trudging through her house and throwing clothes and toiletries and all the presents she had bought for her family into her small pink suitcase, until she was ready to vacate her house and step out into the cold and the snow. 

Despite the cold, she surrendered to her protesting eyes and covered them with large brown sunglasses. She looked stupid, she was well aware, and anyone who looked at her for more than five seconds, with her dark sunglasses and her tangled hair, would know that last night had been heavy. But, again, she didn't care anymore. It was almost Satinalia, after all.

She received one or two odd looks as she approached the bus stop, but her attention was drawn to the horizon, watching out for the sign of the airport bus trundling down the road. The rest of the world was dead to her, her eyes focused on the road ahead, framed by a thick white layer of snow as she braced herself for the week ahead, with the snide remarks she knew were coming for her, as well as the exhausting and dreary dinner conversation she was bound to be subjected to. So when someone was calling her name, she didn't even notice.

“Amelie!” Someone had appeared right behind her, causing her to whip around at the sound of their voice. But she immediately wished that she hadn't.

“Cullen?” She cried, raising her sunglasses off of her nose and placing them on top of the bright red tangle of hair on the top of her head. “What are you doing here?” She was shocked, her mouth agape as she stared at the man in front of her, who appeared to be dressed in sport clothes, his blonde hair damp with sweat despite the icy cold weather. But more than that, she was confused. Why in the name of Andraste would he want to talk to her, after walking out on her so dramatically only a week ago? And why would he think she would want to see him after that?

“I was just out for a run,” He said, his voice so innocent as he spoke between panting breaths. “And then I saw you standing here and...I…”

He trailed off, and she waited, but the words were clearly caught in his throat as his gaze fell away from hers, his hand drifting to the base of his neck as he shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

“I don’t know why I came over, really,” He mumbled, shrugging his shoulders as he looked back at her with sad eyes.

“Look, Cullen,” She began with a heavy sigh, her fingers massaging her sore temples as she looked at him with a scornful glare. “I'm busy, ok? I've got a plane to catch, I don't have time for-"

“I'm sorry, Amelie,” He blurted out, his eyes desperate as his arms fell uselessly to his side. “I shouldn't have walked out on you like that.”

“Cullen,” She sighed, her shoulders slumping as she glanced anxiously down the road and back down at her watch. “I really don't have time for this.”

“Just let me say sorry, please,” He pleaded, drawing himself ever so slightly closer to her. She thought about stepping backwards, feeling slightly wary of his presence, but then she realised that, despite everything, she didn't want to. “I just freaked out, I don't know what came over me. I never wanted to leave you, but-"

“But what?” She asked with a sigh, looking down at her black heeled boots as she prodded the snow at her feet with her toe. 

“I was scared,” He said quietly. “I can't help it, I shouldn't be, I know you would never hurt me.” He moved closer again, so close that she began to smell the musky smell of sweat, tobacco, and him. “Please don't hate me, Amelie, please,”

“I don't, Cullen,” She told him, so quietly that she wasn't even sure he heard her. “I don't.” 

Silence reigned between them as they stood, completely oblivious to the world around them. They were lost beneath the crushing weight of one another’s presence, hopelessly fighting the tide of emotions which threatened to overwhelm her. So strong was her desire to run at him, hug him, kiss him, that she very nearly did. But she didn't, instead, she took a step back.

“I'm sorry too, Cullen,” She said eventually, breaking the suffocating silence between them. “I should have told you sooner.”

“I can't blame you,” He chuckled, his shoulders slumping as he relaxed in her presence. “I guess we both went into this the wrong way.”

“Yeah, one night stands are a bad way to start any relationship,” She laughed, a laugh she shared briefly with him. Hearing him laugh again raised her spirits somewhat, but at the same time, it pierced a hole through her heart. 

“Where are you going, anyway?” He asked her, clearing his throat as he pushed aside the awkward silence. “Home?”

“Yeah,” She sighed as she indicated to her suitcase. “I'll have to explain to my mother why I'll be alone. But then that's not a new topic of conversation.”

“I don't think I would have been good enough to sit at their Satinalia table, anyway,” He breathed an awkward laugh, his gaze dropping from hers as he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

“That kind of thing doesn't bother me,” She shrugged, before glancing up the road as the bus turned the corner at the end of the street. “This is my bus, anyway.”

“When will you be back?” He asked her hurriedly, his eyes frantically watching the bus as it trundled down the road towards them.

“For First Day,” She told him. “For the New Year ball, I promised my sister I'd take her.”

“Right,” He said, placing his hands on his hips as he looked down at the ground at his feet. “She can probably dance better than I can, anyway,”” He looked up, his golden brown eyes falling on hers with a pleading air, in a similar way to how his dog used to look up at the two of them when they were too busy giving one another attention to remember that he was there.

“Probably, yes,” She laughed, smiling at the man in front of her. It was easy to forget everything that had happened when he was stood there with his sweet eyes and shy smile. But she couldn't. “Cullen,” She sighed, forgetting about her bus momentarily as she addressed him.

“Yes?” He asked, his eyes filled with what she thought was hope.

“I can get over you being a Templar, it's all in your past, you said so yourself,” She told him, taking in a deep breath as she prepared her next part of the speech, before he interrupted her.

“You can?” He seemed shocked, his eyes wide as he looked down at her.

“Yeah,” She said, and the smile she received was so wide, so beautiful, with the scar twisting it into a slanted smirk. It threatened to disarm her, but she stayed firm. “But I'm not sure if you can with me. Because I can't do what you've done, I can't just stop being a mage.” The other people at the bus stop shuffled away as she said that, shifting uncomfortably on their feet. But she continued. “I need to know that you're ready to deal with that, to accept me because of who I am, not in spite of it.”

“I-" He began, but she stopped him, silencing him just as the bus pulled into the stop. 

“Don’t answer now. Go away and think, really think, because I need you to be sure that you can do this. And when you're ready, come and find me,” She told him as she stepped into the queue for the bus. “Happy Satinalia,” She smiled, before turning her attention to the queue in front of her, which seemed to have shuffled forward as she joined the end of it.

“Happy Satinalia,” He echoed, forcing her to turn and look at him one last time, with his gentle golden eyes and his golden hair that shone in the bright winter sun. 

“Goodbye, Cullen,” She said with a smile, before boarding the bus and losing him from her sight. When she sat, she expected him to be gone, hurrying off to finish his brisk morning run. But he wasn't, he simply watched her through the window as the bus pulled away, and she was brought away from him once again.

It was like the sun had gone out, the world around her turning a strange shade of grey as she continued her journey around the outskirts of Val Royeaux and towards the airport. But there was that faint glimmer of light, now, one that she hadn't felt since that fateful Friday night that was somehow only a week ago. He had come to her, smiled at her, and most of all, he didn't hate her. It was bad, but she could almost imagine that there was something still there. She shouldn't, everyone had told her to forget, to move on, but she couldn't help it. Those thoughts, the ones she knew she should suppress, push to the back of her mind, were enough to make her forget about being anxious about her journey, carrying her through security and the flight and the awkwardness that always came from seeing her parents again.

Except, when the driver pulled up at their weekend home on the outskirts of Ostwick, her parents weren't there. 

“Where is everyone?” Amelie asked as she trundled up the gravel drive with her suitcase, which a young girl, who didn't look much bigger than the suitcase, hurried to offer her assistance with, which she politely refused. “I was expecting an inquisition when I turned up, but I’m not complaining.”

“Well father has taken Marcus to check on the boat, and mother has taken Lionel and the kids to the zoo,” Claudette told her after she gave her a very enthusiastic hug, albeit one which felt like the kind an awkward, estranged aunt would give. “I told them you probably wouldn't mind if I was here.”

“Not really,” She shrugged, secretly thankful that she wouldn't have to deal with that problem for some time. “What the hell are they doing on the boat in the middle of winter?”

“Oh I don't know,” Claudette waved her hand dismissively as she led her into one of the sitting rooms. “Man stuff, I guess,”

“You don't mind your husband leaving you all alone, then?” Amelie asked her as they collapsed into one of the stiff, too-expensive-to-be-comfortable sofas. “I think I would, especially if I was pregnant.”

“Yeah well you know what men are like,” She shrugged, motioning to one of servants to bring them a tea set. “They don't want to know any of that business.” She turned to her then, her lips stretching into a sweet smile as she took her cold hand in hers. “Anyway, I heard the news, about you and your plumber friend. What happened? I want to know everything.” 

Her eyes were alright with curiosity, she did forget how much her sister liked to know everything that everyone was up to. She wasn't a gossip, she never told people what she had heard, unlike their brother who had got her in far too much trouble with their father these last few weeks. But she would sit there for hours with an encouraging smile and a tentative gaze, as she did today.

Amelie told her everything. But, to her surprise, it wasn’t painful, or hard, no tears came to her eyes anymore. She had filled herself with hope, a hope she should never have allowed to blossom, but one which fostered from the moment she saw Cullen running towards her at that bus stop. And it was wrong, so wrong, to keep herself tethered to that hope after everything, but then she had done a lot of things that she shouldn't have since her move to Val Royeaux. And it was just a thought, thoughts could be harmless.

“Well,” Claudette said as she finished her story with this morning's encounter at the bus stop, her smile turning into a grin as she set down her tea. “I know exactly what we're going to do.”

“We're not _doing_ anything, Claudette,” Amelie sighed, pushing her forbidden thoughts to the back of her mind and replacing them with the voice of reason. “I told him to find me when he’s ready, there's nothing else I can do.”

“Well whatever,” She waved off her concerns, before turning to look her directly in the eye with what she thought was a mixture of excitement, and mischief. “We're going to make you look stunning for the ball. And when he sees you, he's going to regret losing you. I'll make sure of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exams are over and I'm back! Good news is I got a bit ahead with chapters and what I want to do is go 10 chapters without taking a break, if I can keep up with the level I'm working at atm anyway. But, anyway, thanks for reading! And, if you're coming back from my exam break, thanks for your patience <3


	17. Flight to Fancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having been subjected to a week of Satinalia celebrations with her parents in Ostwick, Amelie must now get her brother and sister back to Val Royeaux in time for the much anticipated Masquerade Ball.

“Oh, I think I missed a hair when I did your eyebrows,” Claudette sighed as she grabbed at Amelie’s face and studied her eyebrow intently. “Nevermind, I'll get that later.” She pulled away, waving her hands dismissively as she leaned back in her seat. “So anyway, I met his daughter back in…”

That was Amelie’s cue to switch off. She was beginning to regret turning down Lionel's offer of sleeping pills, but then one of them had to be awake to hear Claudette's unending stories, and as she looked wistfully at her brother, who was taking up three chairs with his ridiculously long limbs as he slept away the flight, she thought how unlucky it was that it had to be her. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with her stories, there were just a lot of them, and they had been hearing them for the entirety if Satinalia, or at least she had.

Amelie had become Claudette’s pet project over the holiday. She had been taken to salon after salon and subjected to lots of different treatments she had never heard of, all in the week she had been at Ostwick. She had never felt so moisturised, or pampered, or raw from the sheer amount of plucking that had taken place. But then that was better than the alternative, which was being chided by her mother, normally, or simply being reminded of her age, both of which were regular occurrences over the short Satinalia holiday.

“Well you can't afford to be picky,” She had said as she told her parents what had happened with Cullen over dinner. Or, rather, they interrogated her about it. “You're not young anymore, Amelie, you have to remember that.”

“I wasn't being picky!” She told her, rolling her eyes at her mother. “Just because I'm almost 30 it doesn't mean I have to settle for anyone that will have me.”

“Amelie, ‘settle’ has a ‘t’ in it,” Her mother had chided, before continuing her speech. “But as I was saying, older women…”

And at that point, she had switched off.

But then there was their father, who was possibly even more painful to listen to, as he stared down at you from his seat at the end of the dinner table with dark beady eyes.

“I don't see what the problem is,” He had shrugged as he wolfed down his turkey. “The Templars are a noble order, it's a respectable profession.”

“They killed your brother, father,” She reminded him, looking at him with an awestruck expression as he continued to eat his dinner as if he had said nothing. 

“It was a war, Amelie,” He had told her calmly between sips of red wine. “One he chose to take part in, I may add. I can't blame the whole order for that.” He drew himself back in his chair as he finished the last remnants of his meal. “And you can't break some man's heart because that, either.”

“I didn't!” She had cried, but she quickly went quiet. There was no way she wanted to let her guard down in front of her parents, so she let the silence stew for a moment or two, before Claudette saved the day with a highly exaggerated gush of joy at the quality of their meal, earning enthusiastic smiles from their parents.

“I'm so excited to see the dress you've brought, Amelie!” Claudette grasped at her hand excitedly, pulling her away from her memories and back into the cabin of their plane. “Did I show you mine?”

“I think so, yes,” She said, although if her memory served her correctly, she had seen it about 12 times this past week. 

“Oh of course,” She looked down, her hands withdrawing to fidget in her lap as she smiled sweetly. “I'm sorry, you must be so bored of me.”

“Why do you say that?” She asked. It was true, she was a little bit exhausted from the constant barrage of, well, Claudette. But there was no way she would ever have the heart to admit that.

“Because everyone else does,” She sighed, looking over to their sleeping brother, who had shifted slightly so that his coat, which had been a blanket, was curled up in his arms like a soft toy. “I've bored him to sleep.” She scoffed, looking back at Amelie with an exasperated smile. “Marcus is bored of me.”

“Did he tell you that?” She asked, her mouth agape as she looked down at her sister, whose smile had dropped so that only the corners of her mouth were turned upwards now, the light in her eyes dimmed by a passing shadow. 

“Oh, no, of course not!’ She said hurriedly, looking back at Amelie with a trace of her usual, smile. “Our lives are just…” She paused, her eyes wandering to the roof of the cabin as she thought over her words. “Not quite as exciting as they were before, if you know what I mean. And it affects him more than it affects me, for obvious reasons.”

“Obvious?” She questioned, but her answer was given to her not by Claudette, but by a slow, laboured voice across the room.

“What she means,” Their brother said as he stirred from his sleep, his long thin limbs stretching as he dragged himself away from the throes of sleep. “Is that the sex was always bad anyway.”

“I did not say that!” Claudette cried, throwing him a pout as he laughed at her with a sleepy grin. 

“Why do you only wake up when we’re talking about sex, anyway?” She asked him, earning herself an exasperated sigh. 

“Because, Amy,” He began as he settled himself back down on the comfortable seats. “It’s been a while and I am very desperate.” He admitted, before he wrapped the coat over himself and shut his eyes. “I should travel with you more often, Cee, I could get used to flying private. It’s much nicer than commercial First Class.”

“It’s much nicer than economy, too,” She said, before she dragged her attention towards her phone, which was lighting up frantically with messages from her work friends, who were apparently already throwing back the alcohol more than five hours before they were due to leave for the ball.

“You know, if anyone asks us which one of us is Father’s favourite,” Lionel’s voice called from beneath his makeshift blanket. “Just relay this conversation to them.”

“Oh don’t be so mean,” Claudette scolded, frowning at the two of them ever so slightly as her eyes flitted between the two of them.

“You know it’s true,” He scoffed, looking back up at her briefly with sleepy eyes. “Anyway, have I got enough time to sleep before we land?”

“No, we’re almost there,” Amelie told him, looking down at her new watch, a Satinalia present from her parents, which brought some degree of surprise because it did look fairly expensive. “You can sleep at mine.”

“No time,” He said, shrugging his shoulders before climbing out of his homemade bed. “Not if I’m meant to be doing your hair, anyway.”

“Oh yes!” Claudette cried, looking over at Amelie with an excited grin. “You are going to love what I have planned!”

What she had planned was far from what she expected, and something she had never thought to put herself through. Curls. Loose, bouncy curls of red which framed her face, floating just above her shoulders and cascading down behind her ear as she pushed them out of her face where, somewhat annoyingly, the stylist in the salon a few days ago had shaped it to fall just beside her left eye, where it constantly obscured her vision. But she had to admit, it looked beautiful.

It was just a shame that the one person who was meant to be here, who was meant to share in this moment with her, wasn’t.

She pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind, as she had done for almost the entirety of her stay in Ostwick or, more accurately, for the weeks that had passed since had last seen him at the bus stop down the road when she had wondered if, perhaps, there was still something there between them, a spark that had refused to be extinguished. But, it was hopeless, and so she suppressed those feelings to the back of her mind where, for now, they could not hurt her. After all, she was pretty good at doing that.

“I've been here for about 10 minutes doing your hair,” Lionel said, cutting off her thoughts and dragging her attention back to her reflection in the mirror, where she glanced upwards to look at him as he stood behind her with a can of hairspray in hand. “And you have nothing to say about it?”

“I'm sorry,” She said, throwing him a smile as she turned in her chair to look up at him. “It's amazing, thank you.”

“My pleasure,” His smile was heavily exaggerated as he looked down at her, patting her ever so slightly on her shoulder. “Now go away and get dressed so I can do your sisters hair.”

“Oh it's my turn?” Claudette asked, her face alight with excitement as she hurried over to take Amelie’s place. “Just curl the ends for me so it's nice and bouncy.” She heard her say as she left the two of them in her guest room, which was theirs for the next few days, or until they decided to go home. 

Waltzing into her room and closing the door behind her, she approached the wardrobe at the far side of the room and threw open the doors, caught in her moment of excitement as she rode on the high of having freshly styled hair and a delicately applied face of makeup. For a moment, she felt exquisite, revelling in her beauty as she gently tucked her hair behind her ears and hummed a quiet tune. She plucked her dress off of its hanger, the dress she had brought all those weeks ago at the behest of her friends, and looked at it properly for the first time since she had brought it.

It was a deep purple, floor length gown, highlighted by small silver jewels which formed a twisting pattern which bunched around her waistline. They had told her it suited her, that she looked beautiful, elegant. Cullen had looked on it with awe. But then they weren’t here, he wasn’t here, and when she wore it, she felt a lot less beautiful, or elegant, or awe-inspiring. She felt, if anything, stupid.

She slumped down on her bed, ruffling the long skirt ever so slightly. But she couldn’t help it, her shoulder slouched forward, her body closing in as she looked down at the silver mask she had placed on her bed covers, the one that supposedly made this night so exciting. 

The truth was, this wasn’t her. She didn’t swan around in ballgowns and fancy masks. It didn’t suit her, she wasn’t...elegant enough for that. 

“Why would you wear heels?” Her mother had said as they discussed their outfits over tea. “You’re tall already, aren’t you worried you’ll dwarf everyone?”

Maybe she had been right, she thought as she looked down at the shoes she had brought especially for tonight, the strappy black heels that were, thankfully, on sale. She never wore heels much, at work she always preferred to slip on some flats quickly before she left the house, bar the odd exception when she had first started working there and wore the tiniest heels she had ever seen, that thankfully still let out the satisfying click when she walked down the hallways of the university. And she would wear them sometimes when she went out. But, again, they would be small.

These were frighteningly tall. But she stared down them, turning her face into a determined scowl, and swept them off of the floor before stomping out of the room and down the stairs, turning back at the last second as she remembered her ridiculous mask. As she swept down the stairs, tripping ever so slightly on the bottom step, she found herself coming face to face with her hallway mirror, where she saw herself fully dressed up for the first time. Her hair did look good, she had to admit, her brother had done a good job with the curling iron, surprisingly. And, of course, Claudette had perfected her makeup. But then there was still the dress.

“I’m not sure about the neckline,” Her mother had declared as she looked at a picture of the dress. “The way it comes up to the neck and leaves the arms bare, it doesn’t exactly reveal your best asset, or hide your less favourable ones.”

She looked at herself, her arms, her chest, draped in dark purple and accented with opulent silver, and she could begin to see her mother’s words tearing at her, needling into the delicate skin on her arms to the point where she thought about walking back up those stairs and spending the night hiding in the bath. But her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. So she swallowed her fears, turned away from the cruel reflection in her mirror, grabbed her long black coat, and opened the front door.

“Hi!” Josephine cried as she stood in her doorway in a blindingly glamorous gown of pure gold, which appeared to shimmer in the fading light of the sun. “Ready to go?”

“Almost, where's Leliana?” She asked, as she hurried around her hallway, gathering her keys and phone and throwing them into a clutch bag. “Hurry up! We're going!” She called up the stairs, earning a disgruntled whinge from above.

“She's…” Her silence caused her to look up from her bag, before approaching the front door slowly and peering out from behind Josephine. They both watched in silence as Leliana stood in a large snow drift kicking up snow as she shouted angrily at the ground, waving around a half empty bottle of Frostback Vodka. “She's having fun, I think.”

“Ok! We're ready,” She turned around to greet her sibling who, of course looked amazing. Claudette’s dress was a deep red, one which perfectly matched her lips and complimented her dark brown hair. And her shoes were definitely not bought on sale. 

“Claudette, you look lovely,” She said, looking away from the dress and into her sweet face. But that's when she realised that there was something different about her, something beyond the heavy coat of makeup and the extravagant red dress. She wasn't smiling. “Claudette?”

“Oh, thank you,” She said hurriedly, looking up to meet her gaze and throw her a weak, half hearted smile. But then she changed, suddenly, as if a switch had been flicked in her brain. Her face lit up, it shone, almost as bright as Josephine's dress, and she began to look like herself again. “Let's get going! I'm so excited to have a night where I can just pretend to be… not married, and not pregnant.”

“Sounds good,” She smiled weakly, giving her brother a sideways glance as she let Claudette out of the house. But he said nothing, giving her only a twisted frown beneath the well groomed beard and styled red hair. 

But she could worry about Claudette when they got there. For now, she was more concerned with getting them all there, including Leliana, who was at least offering her vodka out to the rest of them now. And she was equally concerned with what the Maker had in hold for them on this extravagant night in Val Royeaux. Her stomach was uneasy, her feet wobbling in their heels as they marched towards the Grande Cathedral where, as Josephine and Leliana had correctly observed all those weeks ago, everyone in Val Royeaux had gathered for the New Year’s Masquerade Ball.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there goes this months filler chapter! I got myself into a pickle when I realised I had to get everyone back to Val Royeaux hence why there's a whole chapter dedicated to it lol. But it will be worth it next week, I hope. I'm very excited for that one! If you're wondering why I skipped Satinalia and did flashbacks then, well, that would have been boring as hell, and I wanted to get to the good parts!
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! Same time next week for Chapter 18! <3


	18. Masquerade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The countdown to the New Year has begun, and all of Val Royeaux is celebrating with an ostentatious masquerade ball, ending in the infamous, and unavoidable, kiss at midnight from a stranger behind a mask. But the masks provide a sense of safety for their wearers, a sense of anonymity, and that anonymity can prove to be dangerous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you're done with this one, make sure to read Cullen's POV of this same chapter over in my side story collection which you can find under the title "Quenched, Consumed, Satisfied".

Val Royeaux had been transformed. No longer was it the city of tall terraced buildings bustling with the noise of traffic, the crowds of tourists, visitors, residents, who swarmed the streets with their minds filled with business, or schedules, or the excitement of visiting the largest city in Thedas. Tonight, those crowds had transformed into a wave of people dressed in the finest clothes money could buy, a wave made up of every colour imaginable, dazzling blues, vibrant reds, intriguing golds, silvers, emerald greens. And on top of that, masks in every colour and style, with some that reached above their bearer in extravagant plumes of multi coloured feathers or vines of metal flowers.

She had soon grown tired of Val Royeaux, any beauty she had found in the place when she first moved her had dissolved within weeks. But tonight, that beauty had been restored, somewhat.

It hadn’t taken them long to join the crowds, people swarmed from every street and every district, crowding upon the cathedral in their hundreds and thousands. But it wasn’t just the innocent citizens of Val Royeaux who had descended upon the cathedral tonight, the whole city was swarming with Templars, some of them were holding guns, all were dressed in their shields and helmets, others were holding citizens in their arms as if they were ragdolls. And then there were reporters the reporters, lining the steps up to the cathedral with their cameras and microphones, buzzing like a hundred excited bees. There were the clerics and chantry sisters, whose place of worship had transformed into the centrepiece of the most electrifying night in Thedas.

“Don’t they mind?” She had asked Josephine as they moved slowly up the steps towards the cathedral. “Having to deal with all this for a day, and all the cleaning up. In the Maker’s house, of all places.”

“I don’t imagine so,” Josephine shrugged, her long, lustrous hair shining in the twinkling lights that had been hung from every building, which illuminated their path through the treacherous covering of snow that lay upon the ground beneath their feet. “Most of the money from ticket sales goes to them.”

“Seriously?” She had asked, before lowering her voice to a mumble. “Can’t believe I got three tickets.”

But she couldn’t complain. Claudette looked like she was having the time of her life, turning to every reporter along the path as if they were her best friend. Apparently, a few of them were her friends, judging from the excited squeal that she elicited as she gave them a gentle hug. So much so, that almost as soon as they entered the building, and ran into another reporter, they lost her.

“Where’s Claudette?” She asked her brother, who seemed as if he was about to make a beeline to the nearest bar.

“She’s talking to someone from the Ostwick Herald,” He shrugged, reaching his hand into the pocket on the lining of his dark blue suit. “Want a drink?”

“Yeah, if you’re buying,” She told him, as a man in penguin suit approached to take her coat and bag. She thanked him as he took her things and replaced them with a small numbered token, before turning back to her brother. “Aren’t you worried about her?”

“She’ll be fine!” He said empathetically, rolling his eyes at her. “She lives for this kind of thing, trust me. And she’s a good girl, unlike you and me, she doesn’t get into trouble.”

“Amelie!” Josephine approached her from behind, drawing her attention away from her brother as he found his way to the bar. Leliana was with her, but she was one another world, her body swaying as she leant on Josephine’s shoulder. “You have to help me with Leliana, our boss is here and if we don’t go over and say hello we will look like terrible people!”

“How did she get so drunk?” She asked as she stood on her other side, her arm subtly holding her up as Josephine led them towards the bar her brother had just approached. 

“Vodka!” Leliana cried, turning towards Amelie with a smile before reaching out to stroke her face with a limp hand. “You look so pretty tonight.”

“Thanks,” She returned the smile, before turning back to Josephine. “Who are we going to see?”

“Madame Vivienne, the Vice-Chancellor of the University,” She turned to answer her quickly, before they came to a halt at the bar, where Leliana thankfully flopped herself down on the most elegant barstool she had ever seen. “She’s just down there, she will spot us in a second.”

And she was correct. Just down the bar, a woman who was unmistakably Vivienne de Fer was sat, perched on a stool with a glass of wine in her hand, dressed in the most extravagant silver dress that split on her right leg, so that the skirt pooled around her like a shining cascade of silver jewels. Even with the mask, she could recognise the woman who she had met all those years ago. Knight-Enchanter Vivienne was famous not just as the woman who travelled the circles training Knight-Enchanters, nor as just the First Enchanter of Montsimmard, but in almost every aspect of public life. Government, celebrity, academia, and now, apparently, the University of Val Royeaux.

“Josephine!” Vivienne called her over, enthusiastically waving her hand in the most delicate way possible. “It’s so good to see you. I hope you’re enjoying all the new responsibility. I knew the promotion would suit you well.”

“Of course,” She said as they approached, leaving Leliana on her stool as she happily played with two olives on sticks in what looked like a recreation of a battle as one olive stick stabbed the other repeatedly. “This is Miss Trevelyan,” Josephine introduced her, placing a firm but encouraging hand on her shoulder. “She’s new to my department.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” She smiled at her gently, before turning back to Josephine. “I see you’ve already lost one of your members of staff.” 

“Yes, well,” Her cheeks flushed pink, before the two of them turned to look behind them, where Leliana was smiling triumphantly as one olive appeared to have claimed victory over the other. “There is always one.”

“Yes, that’s what makes these events so much fun,” Vivienne smiled, before rising from her seat, gathering her long dress as she swept off of the stool. “Now I do apologise, but I’ve just spotted an old friend from Montsimmard. But I’m glad to have bumped into you, Josephine,” She told them, before turning to Amelie, with a piercing gaze, looking down at her with her dark eyes hidden behind an extravagant silver mask that rose above her head in what looked like two, silver horns. “And it was lovely to meet you, Miss Trevelyan. I have to say, I am jealous of the way your hair offsets the mask,” She came closer then, appearing to inspect the silver mask above her eyes, but instead leaning in ever so slightly so that her next words were only a whisper, but they sent a shiver down her heart as if she had hurled a ball of ice at her chest. “Have a good night, Knight-Enchanter.”

She froze solid as Josephine next to her breathed a sigh of relief as Vivienne left. “Well, that could have gone a lot worse,” Josephine said, letting out a low chuckle as she grabbed Amelie’s hand. “Come on, I’m getting a drink.”

But all she could think about was those last words. It had been years since her training, yet somehow, Vivienne seemed to remember her as if their lessons at Ostwick had been only yesterday. And, the worst thing of all, these damn masks did nothing to hide who she was, she was not as safe as she would like to have thought. Suddenly, the templars who stood on the doorways of the Cathedral seemed increasingly more daunting.

“I’ve got your drink,” Lionel dropped a glass of red wine on the bar in front of her, before turning to look over her head, down the bar at a man who was sat glancing down at them in between sips of what looked like beer. He was looking at them sheepishly, his eyes flitting between them and the drink in front of him as they his beneath locks of wavy brown hair. “Now is that handsome man looking at me, or you?” He whispered in her ear as they both looked at this man, inviting him to dare approach them.

When Josephine was done ordering beside them, and had gone off to stand by Leliana, who was collapsing further and further onto the bar with each passing second, the man moved towards them, shuffling along and flopping down onto the stool next to her.

“Sorry to bother you, are you that girl Cullen was hanging around with?” He said in a strange accent that made him sound as if he was from somewhere in the Free Marches. At that point, her brother excused himself, leaving her alone with this stranger who apparently knew Cullen, which was something she really did not want to deal with on a night that was meant to be a party. Especially not after dipping into half of a bottle of vodka and mixing that with the gorgeous red wine she was holding in her hand.

“Is that any of your business?” She asked him, causing his gaze to drop as his face began to redden. “I don’t even know who you are.”

“We did meet, very briefly,” He told her, slamming his now empty glass down on the bar in front of him. “But it was a while ago, and we were probably both drunk.” He looked over at her and extended his arm. “Name’s Rylen, I’m a friend of Cullen’s, I work with him.”

“I think I remember you, yes,” She said, shaking his hand briefly before returning to her glass of wine. “Look, it was nice meeting you, but I do need to go and find my sister so if there’s something you need…”

“I was just going to ask what went on between you two? If it’s not too personal.” He asked, cocking his head slightly. “He wouldn’t shut up about you, it was all ‘her hair is so red, her freckles, her eyes’.” He stopped as she let out a bemused chuckle, before affirming his stance. “Seriously, it was so irritating. But then suddenly, it was all done.”

“He didn’t tell you, then?” She asked, somewhat shocked to hear that the gossip hadn’t spread around the barracks, or where ever it was that Cassandra’s followers congregated. 

“Nope, just said it was a personal thing,” He shrugged, leaning back on his stool with his arm propped up on the bar. “But I guess you won’t tell me, either?”

“Why would I tell a stranger what’s going on my personal life,” She said to him, before turning her attention to the slow moving crowd who swarmed into the doors to the cathedral, where she noticed Claudette smiling at her from a distance as she marched towards them with her head held high. “Anyway, my sister is here, so I’d better be going.”

“Oh well, worth a try,” He shrugged, before their conversation was interrupted by an excited squeal from Claudette as she hurried towards Amelie.

“This place is amazing!” She cried, grabbing Amelie by the hand and threatening to cut off the blood supply. “I’m so glad you brought me here!” She went to in for a hug, but then she noticed the man sat next to them, who was watching them from the corner of his eyes as he pretend to be looking at his empty glass. “Oh, I’m sorry, was I interrupting something?”

“No, it’s fine,” She said hurriedly as she motioned for them to leave. “We should probably find Leo, I have no idea where he went.” She turned back to Rylen briefly, causing him to turn in his stool and look at the two girls. “It was nice meeting, you Rylen.”

“This is your sister?” He asked as his eyes fell on her, his mouth ever so slightly agape in a look she knew all too well. But, it was ok, as Lionel had said, she was the one who never got into trouble, she would not be tempted by a stranger with an interesting accent and, admittedly, nice eyes.

“My name’s Claudette,” She said with a sweet smile, extending her hand towards him, which he kissed delicately, causing her to blush ever so slightly beneath her mask and turn her gaze to the floor. Oh Maker. “It’s lovely to meet you, are you here with someone?”

“Just my friends from work,” He told her, which told Amelie that Cullen was here somewhere, hidden beneath a mask. Excellent. “You can’t be alone too, surely. I’d be shocked to see a beautiful woman like you has been left with no one to dance with.”

“Actually, my husband couldn’t come. He’s… at a First Day party in Tantervale,” Her words sounded ever so slightly forced, her smile relaxing ever so slightly, but then it returned in full force once again as she set her eyes back on Rylen. “But I’m not the only woman here who has come alone.”

“But you are the most beautiful,” He told her, throwing her a smile that made her blush again. Oh Maker, this was painful. 

“You don’t truly believe that,” She chuckled, throwing her beautiful brown hair behind her shoulder. “Men always say those things only when they want something.”

“I think you’ve been speaking to the wrong kind of men,” He laughed, before turning his gaze back to her with a new found intensity. “Those are the kind of men who don’t appreciate the beauty in front of them.”

“You’re too kind,” She said with a sweet smile, looking down at him with a playful grin and dazzling eyes as she extended a dainty hand. “I think you deserve a dance for showing me such kindness, if you wish?”

“Aye, I would like that,” He stood, sweeping off of his stool and taking her hand in his, before the two walked past her as if she weren’t there, disappearing into the swarm of people who were shuffling awkwardly in pairs the middle of the hall. 

“Oh Maker,” She sighed to herself, pressing her fingers against her temple as she watched them disappear. What in the name of Andraste did she just witness? And what the hell was she going to do? Claudette had just run off with someone she barely knew and she had no idea how she was meant to be handling this. In her desperation, she marched away from the bar, walking past Leliana who was now slumped at the bar alone, Maker knows where Josephine had gone and towards the corner of the bar where her brother was stood flirting with another man. Apparently, everyone was getting action except her, excellent. 

“Hey, everything ok?” He asked as he excused himself from his conversation, moving away ever so slightly to talk to her. “I was just making some new friends.”

“Yeah, right,” She rolled her eyes, before moving in closer to talk in hushed tones. “Claudette has just gone off with some...guy.”

“So?” He shrugged, looking down at her with a degree of confusion. “She’s a grown woman, Amy, she’s not a kid. She can look after herself.”

“Yeah well, like you said, we’re the sinners here, not her!” She said, before lowering her tone even further. “And you know if she does anything and Father finds out he will blame us! Or, specifically, me!”

“And is he going to find out?” He asked, talking slowly to her as if she were a child. She didn’t answer, instead lowering her gaze and massaging her forehead with her fingers. “Well then, that’s that settled.” He gulped down the last dribble of wine in his glass, before launching into another conversation. “Anyway, do you have a spare key?”

“Oh no!” She said, glancing over his shoulder at the man he had been with, who was watching them impatiently. “You are not bringing a man back to my house!”

“Oh come on!” He pleaded, grabbing her shoulders with unbridled enthusiasm as he looked down at her with wide, desperate eyes framed by his brilliant blue mask. “We'll go now, and by the time you're back, we'll be done and you won't even know we were there.”

“What about Claudette?” She asked him, looking towards the crowd in a desperate attempt to spot their sister amongst the sea of colourful masks. 

“She can sleep in with you,” He shrugged, before throwing her a mischievous smile. “I'll love you forever.”

“Alright,” She sighed, throwing her hands up in the air as he grinned down at her. “But my keys are in my bag, you'll have to get it back.”

She handed him her token, and he sprinted off to find the cloak room, after throwing a sly wink at the man he had left behind, a tall dark skinned man who was hidden behind an elegant silver mask. But he didn't hold her attention for long, because something caught her eye on the edge of the crowd. A man in a black suit, his face hidden behind a fairly humble metal mask. Amongst the cacophony of colour, he stood out in his austere clothing, drawing her attention momentarily as he watched her. 

She could have taken the bait, waltzed over to the man as her sister had done, with a sweet smile and a charming demeanour, smooth talked him with words as sweet as honey, as her brother would. 

But that wasn't who she was, she had learnt that the hard way.

She walked away from the man, heeding Josephine's desperate calls to join her in the crowd of awkward dancers. She hated dancing, at least, she hated the awkward shuffling that people did when they were without a partner. But what else was there to do? And, soon, it would be midnight, and at least here, she could hide in the crowd and when it got to midnight, someone would presumably grab her, grace her lips with their own, and then leave her to her business.

Around her, the crowd of people began to buzz with excitement, their cries of joy rising up in a tide of curiosity as people all around them began to point at the screen at the far end of the expansive hall. A number had been projected onto the white screen, one which seemed to indicate that something very exciting was about to happen.

Ten. It sat there for some time, unmoving, before the screen flickered, and another number appeared.

Nine. It was a countdown. Eight. A countdown to midnight. Seven. To the New Year. Six. To the start of First Day. 

Five. People around them were joining in in a wave of shouts that accompanied the countdown. Four. Josephine was urging her on, looking up at her with an encouraging smile. Three. She turned away, looking at the man beside her, whose face was entirely hidden by both a mask and a humongous beard. 

Two. She looked down as people around her joined hands, or looked excitedly at the person beside them. One. She looked up, and for a minute, she thought she saw the man from before, with the austere mask and the black suit. Zero. Her gaze was interrupted by a burst of joy and a shower of confetti, as the bells of the Cathedrale rang with an ear piercing toll.

That was when she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. Turning around, she half expected, or half hoped, to see Claudette smiling up at her, or Lionel with his key and her token. But no, it was the man with the silver mask, staring down at her with a determined air. Before she had a chance to say anything, to question what this man wanted, he threw himself at her and planted his lips on hers.

The taste was still familiar to her, the mix of whiskey and wine on soft lips framed by sharp stubble. It was the taste of a kiss from not too long ago, one shared after a large bottle of wine as the sea shone with the light of the setting sun. Then, suddenly, she noticed something about the man in front of her. His lips were pulled to the right by a jagged scar and, beneath his mask, his eyes shone a brilliant shade of gold.

“I know you,” She whispered, moving to pull him closer ever so slightly, her eyes wide as they stared him down in shock and wonder. But he stepped back, his lips parted as he looked at her with panic in his eyes. “Wait!” She told him, but Josephine had pulled her away, throwing her into a celebratory hug as the bells tolled the coming of First Day and strands of confetti danced in the air around them. When she looked back, he was gone.

_Cullen._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been excited about these chapters since i started, so I really hope you enjoy this and the next two (yeah I'm dragging this out for a while)! Thank you for reading, and for keeping along with the story, hopefully you're all excited to see some plot points come to a close in the next few chapters (although that's not to say others won't open). 
> 
> Next weeks update may be delayed by a day or two because of planned hospital treatment. It has been written, it just depends if I feel up to uploading on Wednesday morning. But anyway, hope you enjoyed this one as much as I enjoyed writing it <3


	19. Caught in the Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Midnight has passed, and Amelie is alone again, reeling from her encounter with a man who wasn't quite a stranger. But what does it all mean? Where is he now? And will he come back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning, there has been next to no proofreading on this chapter so it might be sloppy. I did do a bit last week but I'm just not in the right headspace right now with all my health problems. So sorry about that, I didn't see any reason not to upload seeing as it was done. It will just be messy haha

The world was closing in around her. The figures who danced around her were a blur of vibrant colour, their laughter turned to a feint din as her heart threatened to burst out of her chest. She breathed heavily, panting as she moved to ground herself amid the circus of confusion. But her head wouldn’t stop spinning, her stomach was riddled with nausea, and all she wanted to do was get out of here as fast as she could.

“Amelie?” Josephine prodded her arm with a delicate finger, looking up at her with large brown eyes as Amelie’s world continued to blur around her. “Happy First Day!” She cried, bringing her into a gentle hug. “Everything ok?”

“Yeah, sorry,” She said hurriedly, throwing her an apologetic smile. “I think the drinks are getting to my head, I’m going to go and sit down.”

“Oh no, not you as well,” She rolled her eyes, before turning back to face the bearded man she had been dancing with. “I’ll come and check on you in a second, ok?”

“Yeah, thanks,” She smiled, before marching through the mass of people and pushing her way to the sofas at the edge of the room, planting herself down on the soft cushions with her head in her hands. 

She wasn’t bothered by the kiss, that was the whole point of this venture, the so called climax of the celebrations. She was bothered that it was Cullen. After all this time, after everything they had said to each other in that spiteful, bitter exchange in the middle of the night, after their awkward encounter at the bus stop, he had come to find her at the ball, and he had kissed her.

What did it all mean?

She had told him to come and find her when he was ready, when he knew that he could push aside his prejudice and accept her for who she was. Was that it? Was that his non-verbal way of telling her that they were going to be ok? That they would carry on as if nothing had happened, as if they had never fought on opposite sides of a war? Or was it a goodbye kiss? One where he gave into his desires one last time before disappearing from her life forever? Was that why, when she called to him, he continued to walk away? Disappearing into the crowd never to be seen again?

Her stomach was growing more and more nauseous, her head was pounding as she sat there in the room that was suddenly as hot as a sauna, her fingers wiping at her brow as beads of sweat began to form. 

“Hey, Amy?” It was her brother, looking down at her with her bag in his hand with his head cocked sideways. “Everything ok?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Her head shot up and she looked at him with a weak smile, holding her hand out to take her bag from him, pulling it open with shaking hands as she reached to find her keys. “It’s just been a really weird night.”

“What happened?” He asked her, taking the keys from her hand as he looked down at her with concern. “Do you want me to stay with you?”

“No, thanks, I’ll be fine,” She said hurriedly, brushing off his concern with a shake of her head. “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow,” She told him, before turning her head to look at the dancefloor. “Have you seen Claudette anywhere?”

“Have I seen her?” He scoffed, nodding his head towards the far edge of the dancefloor, where people apparently hadn’t got the message that the kissing had ended about five minutes ago now. “If you’re asking that question, I presume you haven’t.”

“What do you mean?” She turned back to him a little too quickly, heightening the nausea in her stomach and making the floor swim before her eyes. “What has she done?” She turned back to the ground, scanning the faces of the couples in the distance as she looked desperately for her sister. But it didn’t take long to find her, although she was all but obscured by the taller figure who had latched onto her lips and pulled her into a tight embrace. “What the fuck is she doing?” She cried, her eyes wide with shock as she covered her mouth with her hands.

“Don’t get mad at her, Amy,” Lionel warned, looking down at her with a stern countenance. “She’s an adult, she can do what she wants. And it’s not like we can talk.”

“Well, you’re right,” She sighed, drawing her gaze away from virulent couples and back towards her brother, who stood above her with his lanky frame blocking out the blinding lights above their heads. “You should get going, anyway, don’t want to keep him waiting.”

“No, true,” He laughed, patting her on the shoulder awkwardly as he made to leave. “Are you sure you’re going to be ok? You look like you’re going to throw up.”

“I’ll be fine, thanks,” She smiled at him weakly, earning herself an enthusiastic smile from her brother before he bounded off to find his new friend. But, in truth, she wasn’t going to be ok. She was absolutely going to throw up, but she wanted him gone first so she could make her way to the toilets in peace and retain some dignity.

“It’s a good thing you threw up now,” A slow, drawling voice called from one of the stalls as Amelie reemerged to wash herself in the ornate gold basins lined against the wall. Looking up into the mirror, she not only saw that her face was a lot less pale and harrowed, she also saw Leliana slumped on the floor next to one of the toilets with a creepy grin spread across her face. “These toilets get disgusting by the end of the night.” She was mixing her words now, speaking Common one minute, and Orlesian another, creating a bizarre cocktail of sentences that Amelie struggled to keep up with. “I’ve parked myself here, on this toilet, and no one else is having it. _That’s_ how you win this game.”

“So you’re ok down there?” She asked with a chuckle, already feeling a lot less queasy than before. “You don’t need help?”

“Nope!” She said with a heavy slur, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the cubicle wall. “This is my spot, now.”

“Right, ok,” She rolled her eyes, before turning her attention to her phone, which was vibrating in her back with some determination. The screen flashed up with a number, a number she had forgotten to delete from her phone. Cullen’s number.

She swiped it away, and placed the phone back into her bag just as the door swung open and her sister waltzed into the bathroom.

“Amelie!” She cried, prancing over to her with a giddy expression. “I didn’t realise you were in here, I just came to fix my makeup.” She turned to look in the large mirror above the sinks which spanned the entire wall, staring at her face intently. “Hmm, yes. It got a bit smudged.”

“Oh, really?” She asked with a sarcastic tone, placing her hand on her hip as she stared down at Claudette, who was wiping away the lipstick that had smudged across her face. “I wonder how that happened.”

“Oh shush!” She waved her manicured hand at her dismissively, keeping her gaze locked on the mirror in front of her as she reapplied her makeup. “You’re not our mother, you can’t tell me off.”

“I’m not telling you off,” She sighed, crossing her arms and leaning back against the row of sinks as she watched her sister work with a steady hand and a determined look. “I’m worried about you.”

Claudette stopped, her hand frozen with the tube of lipstick stuck to her painted red lips as her long black eyelashes blinked once, twice, against her smooth, makeup covered skin. Then, as if nothing had happened, she carried on, moving the lipstick over her lips with a confident, fluid motion.

“What are you talking about?” She brushed off her remarks, shaking her head ever so slightly as she scoffed. 

“I know I don’t know you as well as I should, and I’m pretty drunk,” Amelie began, leaning around her sister as she tried to pull her focus away from the mirror in front of her. “But what I saw out there, that’s not you.”

“Like you said, you don’t know me,” She laughed off her concern, drawing away from the mirror and placing the lipstick back in her bag before turning to look at her with her large brown eyes and a weak smile. “But you’re right, that’s not like me.”

“Then why do it?” She asked her, looking down at her with a frown and feeling like a mother scolding her child. But it was difficult with Claudette, she was so much younger than her, five years, to be exact, that it did sometimes feel like that. “I know you think that Lionel and I have exciting lives because we get into all sorts of trouble but you’re better than that-”

“He cheated on me,” She told her firmly, cutting through her speech with words as sharp as knives and eyes as cold as steel, before her gaze dropped, her face hidden behind a curtain of chestnut brown hair. “He told me he was going to a First Day Party, an official one, with his friends in Tantervale. And then he cheated on me.”

“What?” She cried, turning to Claudette with her hand placed gently on her shoulder. “Who told you this?”

“Lionel did, you know how many ‘friends’ he has,” She laughed half heartedly, a cold laugh that sent shivers down Amelie’s spine as Claudette crossed her arms as if to keep out the cold. “Apparently Marcus and his friends decided to go to a Gentleman’s Club after the New Years festivities. And, apparently, he took a shine to one of the girls there.”

“Oh man that is awful!” Leliana’s slurred voice called from the toilet behind them, earning a quick shush from Amelie.

“What’s a Gentleman’s Club?” She asked her, throwing Leliana a stern look before returning back to Claudette.

“It’s a posh version of a strip club,” Claudette said with a snarl, rolling her eyes before looking down at her carefully manicured nails, which were being threatened by her nervous picking. “So when you were talking to Rylen and he was being so charming and nice, I just got sucked in.”

They paused as another woman came out of one of the toilets, a fairly drunk woman who looked as if she had fallen asleep in the cubicle, her eyes framed by dark circles and her updo pulled apart by sleep. The woman took one look at Claudette whilst washing her hands, before walking up to her and gently tapping her on the shoulder.

“Girl,” She said, looking into Claudette’s eyes with her own bloodshot ones, her body swaying ever so slightly on the spot as she stood under the weight of copious amounts of alcohol. “Someone as beautiful as you doesn’t deserve to be treated like that. And if he would spend his time with some tart in a club, then I say throw him to the dirt.” 

The woman sauntered away and practically fell into the door to the toilets as she tried to leave, whilst behind them Leliana cheered, muttering something about men as she leant into the toilet bowl. Amelie couldn’t help but laugh and looked down at her sister in the hopes that she too would be cheered up by the strangers drunken wisdom. But she wasn’t, she just looked up at Amelie with large eyes which wobbled as tears began to fall one by one down her elegant and youthful face.

“I’m just as bad as him, now, aren’t I?” She asked her, her lips quivering as she fought to hold back her tears. “We were dancing, and then it was midnight and he kissed me and I thought that was all. But I didn’t want to leave, and I didn’t want to stop. I _wanted_ to kiss him, Amelie, I wanted him to hold me and dance with me and kiss me until sunrise.” She turned away, hiding her face behind her hair as she brought a hand to her mouth. “I’ve done something awful, haven’t I?”

“No, you haven’t,” She brought Claudette into her arms as she threatened to collapse under her weight, bringing her in so that her tears fell on Amelie’s chest, soaking her through and most likely ruining her dress. But she didn’t care about that. “I’m going to take you home, ok?”

She felt her nod beneath her arms, or at least she thought she did. So she let her cry away her tears for a few minutes more, before helping her to wipe the newly smudged makeup off of her face and put her hair back into its place. Then, they walked out of the bathroom hand in hand, with Amelie escorting her away from the toilets, and the dancefloor, and all the drunk couples who were still clinging on to that midnight romance, and towards the exit. 

“Wait!” Claudette cried suddenly, drawing Amelie’s attention back to the dancefloor as Claudette gestured to a man stood in the distance with a glass of wine in his hand. “I’ll say goodbye first,”

“Claudette…”

“Please?” She pleaded, biting her lip as she looked up at Amelie with her hand still in hers. “It would be rude if I didn’t.”

“Alright,” She sighed, letting go of her hand and throwing her a smile of encouragement. “I’ll wait for you here.”

The world around them was slowing down now, people were either peeling away from the dancefloor in slow, bumbling steps, or they were stumbling into the nearest toilet with green faces and hands clasped over their mouths. Leliana was about to get a lot of company, just as she had expected. 

The masks were coming off now, the glitz and glamour of the ball fading away into an awkward sleepy haze. Glittering stilettos were abandoned, people were slumped on sofas or against the bars in a drink riddled stupor and, everywhere, people were floating away from the Cathedral hall with their partners in hand and a wicked grin on their face, too scared to commit an act of debauchery under the gaze of Andraste, who stood in splendor at the front of the hall surrounded by a band, whose music had turned slow and cathartic as midnight had passed and night turned to morning.

“Ready?” She asked Claudette as she sauntered over to her with her cheeks flushed and her eyes turned down, her lips stretching into a sly smile as she brushed the hair out of her eyes.

“Yes, thank you,” She smiled up at her, but almost as soon as they started walking, she turned away again, looking back over her shoulder at the man she had left behind, forcing Amelie to stop and turn to her doe eyed sister.

“Come on, Claudette,” She sighed, turning to her sister who hastily scurried along to catch her up. But as she joined her again, weaving her fingers into hers, she noticed that the man she left was no longer alone, and a twist in her heartstrings told her that she didn’t want to know who had joined him. 

She turned back to her sister, and led her out of the Cathedral and away from the heady mix of debauchery, scandal, and desire.

When they finally left the ball behind them, she felt relieved to close the door to her home, shutting out the cold and the snow, and all the people who were trying desperately hard to waltz home, fighting against the bitter winds and the alcohol raging in their bloodstreams. Her home was still, it was peaceful, quiet, safe, and that’s all she needed right now, for both her sake and her sister’s. 

“Thank you for looking after me,” Claudette turned to her with a sheepish smile, her hands clasped in front of her as she fiddled with the gold diamond encrusted ring on her left hand. “I’m sorry I got into trouble.”

“Don’t apologise,” She said hurriedly, shaking her head as she laughed off her sister’s concern. “I mean, look at me, I’m a mess. At least you have your life together.”

“Well, I did,” She looked down, hiding her face behind locks of brown hair. “But then I screwed it up.”

“No, Marcus did,” She reminded her, smiling down at her sister whose face looked as if she were brewing up a storm.

“I mean, to think that that girl might have slept in my bed-”

“Claudette, don’t,” Amelie said sternly, putting her hands on her shoulders as she forced her to look up into her eyes. “Go to bed, don’t think about it yet. Save it for when you’re with him.”

There was a knock at her door, then, a sharp knock that cut through the silence of the hallway. Claudette turned to her with eyes wide with fear, her lips trembling as she spoke in hushed whispers.

“Amelie, what if that’s him?” She asked, her voice turning squeaky as she fought to keep it quiet. “What if Rylen has followed me here?”

“Why would he do that?” She whispered, looking back at the door behind her as another knock echoed through the hall.

“Oh Maker, what do I do?” She was freaking out, her hands grasping at her hair as she wriggled out of Amelie’s grasp.

“Go to bed,” She sighed, pulling away from Claudette and walking towards the door. “I’ll deal with this.”

“Ok, thank you,” Claudette raced up the stairs her heels clicking against the stone floor violently as she sprinted away. Amelie sighed, rolling her eyes as she approached the door. Most likely, someone had ordered a post night out takeaway and they were at the wrong house. Although, a takeaway was sounding quite appetising to her now.

She opened the door with an air of irritation, preparing herself to wave away the one who had interrupted their peace. But she stopped dead, her eyes wide as she looked at the man in front of her, her limbs frozen as icy cold air came gushing into her home, biting at the exposed skin on her arms as she stood completely still, completely silent, completely and utterly confused.

“Amelie?” He whispered as he looked at her with eyes as gold as honey, his scarred lips shaking as the cold snow fell on his sandy blonde hair. “You said to come back when I was ready, and I am.” He said firmly, crossing his arms against the cold as he looked at her with desperate, quivering eyes. “Amelie?”

He was here, he had come back, and he was ready.

She inched forward ever so slightly, shuffling towards him with her arms folded as she looked up at him. She was so close to him now, close enough to smell the whiskey on his lips and the aftershave on his freshly shaven neck, and close enough to fall apart in front of him, to lose the barriers she had put up around herself, give in to the temptation, the lust, the desire to hold him in her arms once again.

“Cullen,” She smiled up at him, eliciting a tiny laugh in the form of an icy breath that mingled with his own in a strange cloud above their heads as snow began to fall around them. “You came back.” 

He leant forward, placing a hand on her icy cold cheek and throwing her a slanted smile as he looked down at her, looking as if he were going to kiss her, break the curse between them. 

But then, behind her, she heard Claudette scream.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I might come back at a later date to revise this, but for now you can have this lol. Next chapter is done and needs some revising before it goes up next Wednesday but trust me, I need that week haha. I hope you all enjoyed it anyway, this was just as much fun to write as last weeks! Also sorry if I'm sloppy with comments again.


	20. The Dance on First Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen is standing in her doorway and, to her, it all looks like everything is coming back together. But, before anything can happen, she needs some assurances from him. And, of course, they aren't alone in the house.

Claudette’s scream was high pitched and shrill, cutting through the cold night air with a bitter sting that would have woken half of Val Royeaux, if they hadn’t already been awake for the New Year Ball. In front of her, Cullen stood with his arms crossed against the cold and his face scrunched into a frown as he looked at empty the hallway behind her, where footsteps could be heard on the floor above.

“Is everything ok?” He asked her, looking down at her with panic stricken eyes. “Was that your sister?”

But Amelie just sighed, turning away from Cullen and rubbing her forehead with the fingers of her right hand. “It’s fine,” She told him as she heard Claudette descend the stairs hurriedly, her heels echoing against the stone with a distinct ferocity. “I just forgot to tell her not to go in the guest room.”

“What’s in the guest room?” He asked, closing the door behind him and shutting out the cold. But his question was answered for him by her sisters shrill, breathless voice as she skidded to a halt at the bottom of the stairs.

“Amelie!” She ran up to her with fear in her eyes, her hands outstretched to grab her own. “He has brought a _man_ home and they are _doing_ ….stuff and-” She looked away from Amelie, her attention falling on the man in the hall behind them who was looking everywhere except at the two of them. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise someone else was here.”

“I’m sorry, I was just here to talk to your sister,” He mumbled hurriedly as he shuffled awkwardly on the spot. 

“Of course you were,” She smiled at him, a sweet but knowing smile as she glanced at Amelie with wicked, playful eyes. 

“Just take my room,” Amelie told her, looking down at the floor beneath her feet as she felt her cheeks redden. “I’ll sleep down here.”

“I mean, it’s a double bed we could always…” She looked over at Cullen again, her eyes widening as before she looked back at her again with a sly smile. “Nevermind. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She looked back at Cullen once more before sprinting up the stairs, leaving them to stand in an awkward silence with only the sound of her heels and the slamming of a door to fill the void between them.

“I’m sorry,” She shook her head, looking away from Cullen as he towered above her. “They’re so embarrassing.”

“Don’t be,” He chuckled, before she heard him sigh ever so slightly, drawing her gaze up to match his as he watched her intently. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Well, I do,” She said, crossing her arms as she moved away from him, shuffling into her living room before turning back to him. “But anyway, why did you come here? What do you want?”

“I want to start again,” He told her, staring her down with eyes of gold as he stood awkwardly in her hallway. “I just, I don’t…” He turned away, looking down at his feet as he shuffled in place. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Cullen,” She sighed, dropping her gaze to stare at her carefully manicured fingernails. “I can’t let you feel unsafe because of me. And if being with me makes you feel unsafe…”

“I don’t,” He told her empathetically, bringing himself over to her and taking her hands in his, her hands which, in the eyes of some, were weapons, weapons to destroy, damage, inflict pain. But when he grasped her hands, and brought them to his chest, she knew that he trusted her, and the barrier between them, the barrier between mage and Templars was gone. “How could you ever hurt me?.” He looked up again, looking down into her face with an air of desperation, but one which was gentle, soft, caring. That was when she knew that he saw her not as a mage, or a threat, or a disaster waiting to happen, but as a person, as herself. She always knew he couldn’t hurt her, even underneath the bitter words and the spiteful glares they had shared on that Friday night all those weeks ago. But now, she was sure of it. 

“You really want to be with me?” She asked him, her voice cracking under the strain of her whispers as relief washed over her. “After everything?”

“Of course,” He smiled down at her, bringing his hand up to caress the skin of her cheeks, skin which she hadn’t even realised was ever so slightly damp. “Of course I do.”

“But those things Hawke said…”

“I meant it, at the time,” He sighed, shaking his head ever so slightly as he dropped his gaze. “But that was the man that Meredith wanted me to be, and I am so ashamed of everything I said and did.” He returned to hold her gaze, his face only inches away from her own as he spoke deliberately with shaking breaths. “But that’s not me, not anymore. We live in a different world now, and you are no more a threat to me than any of the others mages who walk free.” He stopped then, pausing slightly as he took her hands once again, grasping them with desperate hands lined with sweat. “Please believe me, please. I don’t want to leave you again.”

She looked at him for a few seconds, watching him stare down at her with ragged breaths, as everything he had told her in these last few minutes washed over, threatening to pull her under, drown her. It was too much to think about, especially as the alcohol still coursed through her veins and made her head feel as light as a feather. But she didn’t need to think, this was no place for logic, or planning, or strategy. This was a matter for the heart, and her heart raged with the desire to say one thing.

“Yes, yes I believe you,” She sighed as she expelled the breath she had been holding these past few weeks, her body relaxing into his touch as he brought her into his arms and kissed her for the first time since their kiss at midnight, his lips tinted with the bitter taste of whiskey, tobacco, and sweat. But she couldn’t complain, because on top of it all, all she felt was relief.

“Have you missed this?” He asked as he pulled away, his voice so quiet she almost strained to hear it. 

“Of course I have,” She chuckled, relaxing into his touch as he caressed her freckled cheeks, her hands clutching at the fabric of his suit jacket as she embraced his arms, his chest, his stomach, revelling in the ecstasy of his presence after all those weeks of being starved of his touch. “Stay here tonight.” She blurted the words out before she even thought of them, causing her to scramble to recover herself. “Not in _that_ way, we'll have to sleep on the sofa anyway.”

“Oh yeah, right,” He chuckled, smiling down at her with eyes that she now realised were heavy with the threat of sleep. “But that would be nice, I’ve missed having someone there while I sleep.”

“Well I won’t lie, I’ve actually enjoyed it a bit,” She laughed, walking over to the sofas with Cullen clutching onto her hand with desperate fingers. “I liked the extra space.”

“Yeah, makes sense, seeing as you always stole all the space when we slept together,” He told her, surprisingly her with how easy they could fall back into their stride together, teasing one another within seconds of opening up their hearts. “Oh, you kept these.” He let go of her hand to grab a blanket she had left on her sofa, clutching them to his face as he sniffed at the soft wool. “And you washed it, it smells like you again.”

“Of course I kept them, they're mine,” She smiled at him, watching him as he clutched at her blanket like a child clutches a soft toy. “And I kept the onesie.”

“You did?” He looked up at her with his eyes wide with joy, before descending into a series of chuckles. “It’s fine, actually, I have my own now.”

“You do?” She asked him, her lips breaking into a smile as he held back a laugh. 

“My sister got it for me,” He admitted, hiding his face with the blanket as she saw him begin to redden. “It’s a lion one.”

“A lion?” She laughed harder this time, prodding him with an outstretched finger as she teased. “Why a lion?”

“I don’t know,” He shrugged, laying the blanket out on the sofa with some care. “I like lions, they’re cute.”

“You should have brought it,” She told him, standing up to join him as he stood over the sofa, placing a gentle hand on his arm as she looked up at him. “We could have had a onesie party.”

“I’ll do that next time,” He said with a laugh, drawing his attention away from the sofa and taking her in his arms as she tried not to squeal at the mention of ‘next time’. “But I think the fancy clothes are just as fun.”

“Well you’ll have to help me out of my dress,” She told him, turning away from his and gesturing towards the long zip which started at her neck and travelled all the way down to her lower back. 

“I don’t want to do that just yet,” A gentle hand on her shoulder forced her to turn back around and catch his gaze, her eyes drowning in his as he looked down at her with a gentle smile. “I like the way it looks on you.”

“You do?” She asked, her hands instinctively moving to cover her arms. 

“Of course,” He told her, smiling down at her as his hands covered her own, pulling them away from her body and down in front of her, so that she was exposed fully to his gentle gaze. “And I love the way you did your hair.” His right hand removed itself from her own and stroked the curls behind her ears as she felt her skin redden. “Maker, you’re so beautiful.”

He kissed her again, this time with more fervour, pulling her in to his hold as he trapped her with his firm, but soft, lips, their bodies so close that they could almost touch, save only for the fabric of their clothes which stood as a barrier between them. But, after everything, perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing. They were drunk, and they were tired, not only from the passing of time as the clock on the wall behind them struck two, but also from the sheer strength it took for them both to be here, letting everything between them come to a close as they opened up their souls and fell into the safety of one another’s presence once again. It was all exhausting, it was all too much, and soon, they pulled away, both exhausted from the sheer will of keeping themselves awake.

“We should get to bed,” She sighed, desperately wanting to stay with him until the sun came up and the new day was here. But she couldn’t, and neither could he.

“Wait,” He told her, taking her hand back in his and pulling her away from the sofa with shuffling feet. “There’s something I want to do first.”

“What is it?” She asked with a smile, letting him lead her towards the empty space between the living room and her kitchen in front of the cold, empty fireplace. 

“I said we would go to the ball, and we didn’t,” He said, before retracting himself ever so slightly, his eyes turning towards the ceiling as he held her at arm's length. “Well, we went, but not together.”

“So…?” She asked, but she needn’t have, not really. She could tell exactly what he intended to do from the glint in his eye and the hand which he placed delicately upon her hip. 

“I owe you a dance,” He said with a smile, a smile that she knew too well, one which was crooked from the pull of an old, fading scar. It was a smile she couldn’t resist, not even when sleep called to her and everything told her that this was silly, childish, that she had too left feet and she would likely fall flat on her ass and embarrass herself in front of Cullen.

“I thought you said you weren’t much of a dancer,” She reminded him, calling back to that conversation at the bus stop all those weeks ago where he had looked so small, so scared, and so lost. But now, he was here, with her, and he looked more sure of himself than he ever had in those weeks before the fatal argument. 

“Not really,” He admitted, pulling her closer as they began to shuffle awkwardly around her living room. “But for you? I’ll try.”

And try he did, keeping her as close to him as he could as they shared this moment of pure silliness together in her home which was now so cold, so quiet, that she almost forgot that anyone else was here. Midnight may have long past, the ball may now be over, with everyone sauntering back to their homes in their drunken states, the weight of their intoxication hanging over them as the onset of morning came ever closer and the glitz and glamour of the night was a long distant memory. But they were together, alone, and that was all she could ever want in this moment.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3 I'm not sure if its because I wrote this a few days before I went to hospital ad I was pretty busy and anxious but I was so not sure of this and it was a struggle to get done but sometimes, you've just got to put this stuff out there and see what happens. But it's a short and sweet chapter, and its one of those really intimate ones that I always like to do, so I hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> I'm going to take a break next week to give myself a rest, and then we can get one with the show! And before you ask, yes, there's still more to come. (loads more, in fact, i'm a bit scared).


	21. A New Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the ordeals of the night before, everyone is waking up and brushing off their hangovers. And now that all the alcohol is wearing off, they are forced to face up to what happened, whether good or bad.

She woke from a sleep that was deep and peaceful, but she couldn’t remember why it should be so, why she felt so at ease and relaxed even when sleeping against the hard sofa with only a flimsy cushion to rest her head against. But then, slowly, her eyes opened, and the world came into view piece by piece until, eventually, she raised her head and found herself looking at the other sofa, where Cullen was curled up asleep beneath the blanket she had given him all those weeks ago.

She found herself smiling as she watched him sleep, enjoying the spectacle of watching him fidget beneath the thick wool as he elicited noises which she had to admit, were adorable, soft whimpers and heavy sighs that were almost lost into the fabric of the sofa beneath him. She had never watched him sleep before, whenever he had stayed, he had been the first to wake, clambering out of bed while she slept to let the dog out or smoke a sinful cigarette. But now, it was her turn to watch him wake.

Except she couldn’t help herself, she couldn’t just sit there and watch, not when she could see his screwed up face poking out from beneath the blanket with a mess of hair that had just begun to lose its form and evolve into a nest of blonde curls. She found herself reaching out ever so slightly and, for some reason, feeling compelled to touch him, as if to check that he was really there, that it was really him. But as soon as her hand rested on his own, he made a noise again, one which sounded like indignation, and then her hand became trapped beneath his as he curled his fingers around her. 

“Are you awake?” She whispered, although her voice struggled with the low volume as the hours of alcohol ridden sleep worked its way out of her scratchy dry throat, leaving her with a raspy voice that she wasn’t even sure he heard. But, apparently, he did.

“Hmm,” The noise he made was almost a grunt, except it was too quiet and too low to be. But it was an answer, at least.

“Should I get up and make breakfast?” She asked as she watched him fight to keep his eyes closed, his face scrunched up as he concentrated on shutting out the morning light. 

“Hmmmmmmm,” His grunt was longer this time, and a bit louder, and it was accompanied by a very persistent pull of her hand as he brought it to his face, trapping her even more as he planted it beneath his cheeks, which had already begun to cover themselves in stubble once again.

“Alright, guess I’ll just stay here, then,” She told him, her words becoming more confident and less raspy as the heavy throes of sleep eased out of her body. Although what time they had slept in to, she had no idea, but everything seemed peaceful, quiet, and gentle.

“Hm,” His noise seemed to reaffirm what he was saying, and she settled back on to the cushions with her arm extended towards him, where she could feel the blood beginning to leave her hand as he crushed it beneath his head. But she couldn’t complain, she couldn’t complain about anything, because she was just so glad that he was here.

Her eyes fluttered closed again, her mind lulled into what promised to be another blissful, deep sleep. Except it wasn't, because almost as soon as she settled herself into the sofa cushions, ready to enter the Fade, she was woken up by a series of loud noises above her head which sounded like the frantic slamming of doors.

“Claudette!” She heard her brother cry with a whiney voice. “Fuck sake, I was going to shower this morning.” 

With a groan, Amelie sat herself up and pulled herself away from Cullen’s grasp just as a rush of blood surged into her head and made the world spin before her eyes, forcing her to drop her head in her hands as the noise around her grew louder. Cullen was waking up, and moaning about the noise, and above them, her brother was thundering down the stairs with what she presumed was their sister.

Except the voice was male, and suddenly, she remembered more of what happened last night. She sat frozen on her sofa while the two men talked in the hall and, eventually, she heard Lionel’s friend leave, and the door close behind him, which is when she finally let go of the breath she was holding and breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Could he not have left quietly?” Cullen moaned from the other sofa as she saw him sit up slowly with his hand resting on his brow. “Maker, I’m getting too old for this.”

“Amy, Amy, Amy!” Her brother waltzed into the room, forcing Amelie to cover her legs with the blanket and pull Cullen’s shirt, which he had donated to her when she had moaned about the cold, tighter across her body. “You would not believe the night I had, that was some of the best sex-” He stopped in her doorway, standing there in nothing but his underwear and a small towel that he had flung over his shoulder, his eyes flickering across the room as they sat there in silence. “Why are you on the sofa?”

“Claudette’s in my room,” She told him as she watched his eyes fell on Cullen, his lips turning into a confused frown, before they took on the form of a twisted smile, curling up at one side as he looked Cullen up and down, who was also sat in his underwear and now looked very red as his blush extended down his face and neck and onto his chest.

“Well well, good morning,” Lionel leant against the doorframe in a perfect imitation of an ancient statue of a great man, with his left hand planted against the wall and his right hand on his waist. “Here to fix the heating?”

“Can you just go and put some clothes on?” She sighed, massaging her aching forehead with her fingers as she purposefully avoided the gaze of both her brother and Cullen. 

“Well I was going to have a shower first,” He said as he pushed himself off of the doorframe and peered around the room. “Where’s your downstairs bathroom?”

“I don’t have one, just a toilet,” She said, throwing him a confused look. “Why, is Claudette using it? Just wait for her to finish.”

“No she’s been sick,” He said with a low voice, rolling his eyes as he gestured up at the ceiling. “That’s what woke me up so early, surprised you can’t hear it down here actually.”

“And you just left her there?” She asked, before throwing her head back into her hands and rubbing her tired eyes. 

“Well what was I meant to do?” He shrugged, planting himself on the arm of the sofa and leaning back against the wall. 

“I’ll go up and see if she’s ok,” She sighed, heaving herself off of the sofa to be greeted by a fresh wave of dizziness. But that didn’t stop her from whirling around and prodding her brothers long, skinny legs as made himself comfortable. “You get yourself dressed.” Then she turned to Cullen, who looked as if he wanted to be anywhere else but in her living room with her brother while they were both in their underwear. “And you!”

“But...you’re wearing my shirt,” Cullen told her, eliciting a laugh from her brother, who was sat looking very pleased with himself as he watched the two of them bicker. 

“Alright, whatever, sit in your pants,” She shrugged, before turning on her heel and shuffling uncomfortably out of the room and up the stairs, clutching onto the handrail as she took the stairs one by one, fighting against the alcohol induced vertigo that had taken over her body.

“Claudette?” She called up the stairs with a gentle voice as she crept towards the bathroom, buttoning up Cullens shirt as she approached the closed door at the end of the hall. “Claudette? Can I come in?”

The door opened slowly, and two large, chestnut brown eyes peered out at her, before Claudette opened the door fully, revealing a tear stained face framed by unkempt hair that stood out at all angles.

“I'm being punished, Amelie,” She said between sobs as she slumped down onto the floor by the toilet, her girly, lacey nightdress spreading out on the floor around her feet. The smell was unbearable, but she dared not gag, instead, she calmly reached over Claudette’s head and flushed the toilet without daring to look at what was inside. But as she did this, Claudette continued with her mumbling, talking at her with broken sentences and muffled words as the tears fell down her delicate face. “The Maker is punishing me, He knows what I did. I did a bad thing, I'm being punished.”

“No you're not,” She told her as she dropped to the floor in front of her. “Are you going to be sick again?”

She shook her head. “Don't think so.” She mumbled, as more tears began to fall, and Amelie saw that she shook everytime she drew in a raspy breath. “It’s over now, I’ve had my punishment.”

“Claudette, stop talking shit,” She rolled her eyes, but almost as soon as she said those words, she felt bad. Because, in front of her, Claudette looked like she was about to dissolve into a fresh wave of tears, her bottom lip wobbling as she looked up at Amelie in horror. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“It’s fine, I deserve it,” She said, looking down at her lap as her delicately manicured fingers picked at a piece of loose thread. “It’s just a part of my punishment, the Maker must be displeased. Why else would I have spent the whole morning sat on your bathroom floor with my head in the toilet?”

“It’s just morning sickness,” She told her with a shrug of her shoulders. “You must have had it before?”

“No…” She looked confused, but not entirely surprised, more ashamed than anything. 

“What about when your friends had children?” She asked her, clutching onto what she hoped was a conversation that was less depressing. “Did they not tell you all these things?”

“No, it’s not something that you talk about in polite conversation, Amelie,” It was Claudette’s turn to roll her eyes now, as if everyone knew what was and was not deemed acceptable for ‘polite conversation’. “And, anyway, we’re all married now, so we don’t really talk anymore. That’s just what happens.”

The fog cleared and, suddenly, she understand her sister more than she ever had before, more than she would ever hoped to have done before last night’s ball. This was a young girl, only 23 years old, who had signed herself over to a man with the promise of being loved, only to realise that that love had never been an option, and all the others in her life had abandoned her in the exchange. 

Suddenly, she wanted to take her sister’s hand, and never let go. Suddenly, she wanted to get her out of her life in Tantervale, in the Free Marches, and give her a new one here, or wherever she wanted to be. Suddenly, she was glad she was sat on the other side of the bathroom floor.

Once Claudette had calmed down and this mornings shame was being washed away in the warm trickling waters of her shower, Amelie shut the bathroom door and made her way back downstairs. By now, despite what she had just had to deal with, she was hungry, and desperate for the greasiest breakfast possible. But it looked like she would be cooking this morning, considering the sight she walked in on.

None of them had moved, they both sat in the same places with next to no clothes on, staring down at their phones. “Hello?” She called, putting her hands on her hips like her governess used to do when they refused to go to bed. “Do you plan on getting up today?”

All she got in response was a hand, raised in her face by her brother as he stared down at his phone with his face screwed up in concentration, something which very rarely made itself shown on her brothers face. But, once the shock had faded, all she did was huff. “Fine,” She turned on her heel again, marching out of the living room and into the tiny kitchen at the back of her house. 

“You bastard!” She heard behind her just as she went to turn on the gas on her stove. Whirling around, she saw that Lionel had his head in his hands, and Cullen was wearing a look of pure triumph. 

“I told you that was a mistake,” Cullen shrugged, as she saw him heave off of the sofa with a wince. “I’d let you have a rematch but I do need to go and feed my dog.”

“Yeah, right,” Lionel rolled his eyes as he turned to look at Amelie with a sly grin. “Your boyfriend doesn’t want to lose his lucky streak.”

“I don’t get lucky,” Cullen said as he bundled up the blanket under his arms and crossed the room towards her, passing it into her arms as he threw her a quick wink. “Well, I do sometimes.”

“Are you still drunk?” She asked him, her lips spreading into a smile as she watched him stand over her. 

“Only a little,” He admitted, before he leant in to plant a quick kiss on hr surprised lips, her body freezing beneath his touch even after he pulled away. “I’ll see you later.” He turned to look behind him, addressing her brother as he sat perched on the arm of the sofa with a grin on his face. “I’ll bring my car and take you to the airport.”

“Thanks!” Lionel said, looking very pleased for himself as Cullen rushed past, heading towards her front door dressed in just his trousers and a blazer while he pulled a cigarette out of the pocket on the inside of his jacket.

“Wait!” She called after him, shuffling along the stone floor with her bare feet as she fought to keep up. “Don’t you want your shirt back?” 

“No, keep it,” He shrugged as his hand dove into his jacket pockets in earnest. “Do you have a lighter?”

“No, why would I?” She asked, holding out her hand. “Give it here.”

He handed the cigarette to her with a frown, his brows furrowed as his eyes locked upon the cigarette in her hand. But as she stepped back, and fire lapped at her fingers without her even needing to think, licking the end of the cigarette so that it began to smoke with a nauseating smell, he made a noise that she thought was recognition.

“Oh, so that’s how they used to do it,” He mumbled, taking it back from her with a degree of apprehension. 

“Amelie, I left your towel in your room!” A sing song voice called from behind them, as she turned to find her sister skipping down the stairs, apparently miraculously cured of her nausea. That was, until she got down the stairs, saw Cullen, and froze. “Oh, hello.”

“Hello, again,” He smiled at her, but it was an awkward smile, his face beginning to redden slightly as his eyes fell to the floor. “I was just leaving, but I’ll be back later to take you and your brother to the airport.”

“Oh, that’s nice of you, thank you,” She smiled at him, throwing Amelie an excited look as her eyes began to twinkle with delight. But when he spoke again, the twinkle in her eye quickly faded.

“Wait, I saw you last night,” He looked down at Amelie with his brows furrowed in confusion, before looking back at Claudette with an air of sudden realisation. “You were with-”

“Ok, I’ll see you later, yeah?” Amelie practically pushed him out of the house, pulling the door to an almost close as they stood out in the icy cold air which bit at her exposed legs and feet with such ferocity that she couldn’t help but shiver violently. But she needed to say her bit, even if her words were scrambled by the force of the cold as her teeth chattered. “Maybe don’t bring that up again.”

“Oh, sorry,” He said, his words mumbled by the cigarette in his mouth, which he removed almost as an afterthought as he glanced over her shoulder at the door behind them. “It just took me by surprise.” He put the cigarette back in his mouth and reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out his phone with awkward, fumbling hands that had gone red from the cold. “I’ll see you later, anyway. Get yourself inside and get warm.” He told her, looking down at her with a crooked smile. 

She smiled up at him despite the cold which ravaged her skin and made her whole body shiver in protest. “Thank you for coming back.” She said quietly, before turning back to the door. 

But then there was a hand on her shoulder, a hand that dug into her skin like shards of ice. And she turned, looking back Cullen as he stood in front of her with a sly smile and his warm golden eyes, eyes which pierced through the cold and made her feel warm again. It was like the snow was melting around them, like winter had turned to spring, like everything that had happened between them was an interlude, a minor set back, and that she was always meant to look back into those golden whiskey coloured eyes as he reached down to kiss her.

The kiss was only short, and it was fringed by the horrid taste of tobacco, but it was still a kiss, and it was from Cullen, and that was all that mattered. And when he pulled away and left, bounding down the path with his phone to his ear, the sun came out from behind the clouds, and the world felt just a little bit less cold, less bitter, less empty, than it had before.

When she turned around and waltzed back into her home with a smile on her face, Lionel was peering around the wall to the living room with wide, curious eyes, and Claudette was stood with her hands over her mouth with a tiny, high pitched squeal coming from behind them. 

And the world was back to normal again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This turned out a lot longer than I ever expected lol. Next weeks chapter will either be a day early or a day late because my graduation ceremony is on Wednesday, but if you're subscribed to updates just check your emails! <3


	22. Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Trevelyan siblings are alone again, and now they can reflect on sins of the night before. All three of them have a lot that they need to discuss, and there are a lot of questions to be answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is a day late! Although actually I was going to upload it next wednesday so it's actually a week early. But n case you aren't following my Tumblr, I am abandoning the weekly posting schedule for the rest of the summer at least because life is very hectic for me right now. So you'll get chapters when they're ready, and I'll still prioritise this fic over other projects so you should still get one chapter a week. Also, if I'm not working on this, I may be adding to the one shot collection, so make sure you check that out too. Anyway, hope you enjoy!! <3 This weeks theme is drama! :o

“He’s so blonde, and he looks so strong! And his eyes...” Claudette gushed as they sat huddled around the tiny table in her kitchen with mugs of warm hot chocolate in their hands. “Oh Amelie, you’re so lucky.”

“Ok can we stop talking about this now?” She asked with a sigh as she felt her cheeks redden. “He left 3 hours ago now.”

“Well excuse us, but you’re the one who decided to bring their ex-boyfriend back to the house!” Lionel scoffed, hiding his face behind his mug as he sipped his hot chocolate. 

“You brought someone back too,” She reminded him. “And what was that you said this morning?”

“Alright, but I don’t go bright red whenever someone teases me about it,” He said, staring her down as she felt herself turn an even deeper shade of scarlet. “It’s just sex, don’t be so uptight about it.”

At the word ‘sex’, Claudette squeaked, hiding her face in her mug as a wave of scarlet spread across her skin. Lionel turned to her with his eyes narrowed, his eyes flickering back to scrutinise both her face and Amelie’s as they sat in an uncomfortable, heavy silence. Then he put down his mug slowly, placing it carefully on the coaster in front of him, before crossing his arms on the table and staring down at Claudette, who was desperately trying to avoid his gaze.

“Claudette,” He asked carefully, his voice barely louder than a whisper, but somehow, still stern, still inquisitive, still determined as ever. “Did you have sex with that man from last night?”

“No!” She cried, slamming the mug down so hard that Amelie thought her table might snap in half. “I did not have sex with him! I can’t believe you would accuse me of-”

“Then why are you being weird?” He asked, a perfectly reasonable question in Amelie’s opinion, but one which flustered Claudette to such an extent that she felt compelled to intervene.

“She just kissed him,” Amelie said, interrupting the huffing which was coming in droves from Claudette’s side of the table. “It's not a big deal.”

“Right,” Lionel said, rolling his eyes as he turned back to their sister. “You realise that's the whole _point_ of going to the New Year Ball? It's not like you're ever going to see him again. Just forget about him.”

Claudette reddened even more, avoiding their gaze by turning her eyes down and covering her face with her chestnut brown hair. They both watched her for a second, then looked at each other with their brows furrowed, then turned back to her again.

“Claudette?” Amelie addressed her carefully, using the softest and most careful voice she could muster. “What's wrong?”

“I know what she's thinking,” Lionel sighed, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded as he scrutinised the pair of them. “She's thinking that it wouldn't be so bad if she _did_ see him again because that kiss was the most exciting thing to happen since she got married to that idiot a year ago.”

“You shouldn't talk about him like that,” Claudette told him sharply, throwing her hair back as she watched their brother intently. Then, she suddenly grew sheepish, turning her eyes down to stare into her mug of cocoa. “Anyway, we're both as bad as each other now, right?”

She looked to Amelie for an answer, but it was Lionel who addressed her, throwing her his response with exasperated sigh and a tired scowl. “Of course you're not! He had sex with another woman, Claudette, and that probably wasn't the first time.” He was trying to be kind, she could tell, but his words were harsh and they were true, and Claudette looked as if she would rather be anywhere else. “Cee-cee,” He sighed, bringing himself forward to lean his arms on the table, his head resting in his hands as he watched her swallow back her guilt, her despair, her shame. “Don't waste time feeling sorry for him, he won't ever feel sorry for you.”

“You don’t know that,” She said, crossing her arms as she scowled at him with her perfectly styled eyebrows furrowed. “Anyway, you can’t exactly talk.”

“I know! That’s why I’m trying to get this through to you!” He looked to Amelie for help, but all she did turn her head away and avoid his gaze. He was right, probably, she barely knew Marcus after all. But she knew how it was to have a man look you in the eyes and see only unbridled affection, and she never saw that when he looked at Claudette. But there was no way she was getting involved in this. 

“We’re all the same, Claudette,” He sighed, leaning back in his chair as he stared down at the table in front of him. “Because it’s all part of the deal. When father told me I was getting married, I told him I didn’t want to and I told him I didn’t like her, or any of the other girls he had made me meet.” His gaze was distant, unfocused, his eyes glazing over as he sat looking dead ahead, not even bothering to look at Claudette anymore, who watched him with an uncomfortable silence and her lips pursed. “He told me that it didn’t matter, and all I had to do was marry her, have a few children, and then I could do whatever, or whoever, I wanted.”

“He didn’t-” Claudette interjected, but she was silence instantly.

“He _did_.” His voice was raised, harsh, and his words stung like the bite of a sharp knife on delicate skin. But then he appeared to check himself, lowering his tone so that he spoke in a hushed, but eerily calm, voice. “I imagine Marcus was told the same thing, because it’s just the culture, it’s how we were raised. But at least I have the decency to feel bad about it. Whenever I see Jen and the boys, I feel ashamed, I feel nothing but guilt. Because I ruined their lives. I made those kids live in a world where they were never really wanted.”

“But Jen had somewhere to go, you gave her that much at least,” Claudette said, turning to look out of the large, patio doors that looked out onto the snow covered garden. “I can’t leave, not right now at least.” She looked down at her lap, her face hidden by a curtain of chestnut brown hair as she spoke in fragile, choking tones. “There’s nothing I can do. I feel so trapped.”

“You can stop feeling guilty, at least,” Amelie told her, forcing her to look up behind the veil of hair with the traces of a smile. “It was only a kiss Claudette.”

“I did a lot worse,” Lionel reminded them, which earned him reproachful looks from the two of them, who knew perfectly well what he had done. Without even bothering to engage him, they turned back to one another, although Claudette did look a little sheepish, her cheeks reddening ever so slightly as she turned her eyes down to avoid Amelie’s gaze.

“It was just a kiss...wasn’t it?” She asked her with a degree of caution, earning a raised eyebrow from their brother as he leaned in to hear her answer.

“Well, yes,” She said quickly, throwing them both a quick glare before her gaze fell once again to the table where her hands now rested. “But when I went back to say goodbye, he gave me his number.”

“So are you going to message him?” Lionel asked, leaning in to rest his elbows on the table as he looked at her with eager eyes.

“Well, I might’ve-”

She was interrupted by a loud knock on the door that made them all jump out of their seats, with Claudette absentmindedly spilling her leftover hot chocolate onto the table in front of her. But Amelie wasn't concerned about that, she was just desperate to get out of there.

She had never really spent an extended amount of time with her siblings when there wasn't something going on, like a birthday or Satinalia. And now she knew why, because the tension in her kitchen was intense, like a dense fog that hung over all of their heads until she left the room, marched along the hallway, and opened the front door.

As a gust of icy wind blasted through the open door, Cullen stood with his hands in his pockets and his collar turned up in an effort to protect his flushed, frostbitten face. He looked up at her with golden brown eyes flushed with red as they squinted against the blinding light of the sun reflected off of the blanket of snow at their feet. But she looked at him with only wonder, a grin spreading across her face as he shuffled into the doorway to bask in the warmth of her home.

“Hi!” She said excitedly, closing the door behind them with a gentle slam that caused Cullen to wince behind her, his bloodshot eyes slamming shut as he let out a small, involuntary yelp. “Everything ok?” She asked him in hushed tones. 

“Hungover, tired...” He sighed, looking down at her with squinting, bloodshot eyes before glancing nervously at the closed front door. “Leo is in a mood with me because I left him all night.”

“What was that?” Her brother popped out of nowhere with a bag over his shoulder and sunglasses over his eyes, holding the suit he had worn last night which hung from its hanger in a protective bag as if it were worth a thousand gold _lions_. Although knowing him, it probably was.

“We were actually talking about my dog,” Cullen said rather apologetically, but any embarrassment on both of their parts was interrupted by Claudette as she whirled into the hallway with a grin on her face.

“You have a dog?” She asked, her face lighting up as she appeared to bounce up and down on the spot with excitement. “I love dogs, did you bring him with you? Can I meet him?” 

“Yeah, he’s in the car,” Cullen said with a quiet, and slightly pained, voice. “I’m sorry, I hope it isn’t too cramped in there, I just couldn’t leave him.”

“It’s ok, I’ll sit with him!” She offered as Amelie opened the door and they all filed through, only to be met with an excited, loud bark that ruptured the peace and quiet of the cold winter’s morning. Cullen’s car, which looked fairly beaten up under the bright, glaring sun, was parked in front of her house, and his mabari was poking out of the window with a smile on his face and his ears pricked up as he watched them approach.

“Well I don’t fancy being dribbled on today so if you don’t mind I’m going to take the front seat,” Lionel told them as he circled the car triumphantly and launched himself into the car. And with Claudette hurrying over to pet Leo, Amelie was left alone with Cullen for the first time since this morning. 

“Are you sure you’re ok to drive?” She asked him, her eyes falling on his slightly blanched look framed by bloodshot eyes. “You don’t look great.”

“It’s fine,” He sighed, placing a hand on her back as he lead her towards the car, where it sounded like her siblings had begun bickering again. “I get migraines, hangovers make it worse.” He looked up at the road ahead of them as they stood at the side of the car, watching flakes of snow drift lazily through the air and onto the bare tarmac. It was empty, quiet, still. No one else had dared leave their homes. “But it’s quiet, I’ll drive pretty slow.”

“Ok, if you’re sure,” She shrugged, opening the car door to find herself face to face with a large, dribbling mabari who was now frantically licking her face.

“I think he missed you,” Cullen said, looking back at her with a smirk as he watched her settle into the seat beneath the hulking weight of his dog, before turning his attention back to the car. 

“I’ll give him his blanket back later,” She told him as she struggled to push the dog out of her face, although thankfully Claudette was there to distract him with cooing noises and an eager smile.

“I love dogs!” She reminded Amelie as his dribbling face settled into her lap and marked her very expensive, navy blue coat. “Oh, should I get one? That would be fun.”

“Oh Maker, really?” Lionel scoffed from the front seat, where he appeared to have made himself very comfortable as he stretched his legs into the footwell. 

“You can’t talk, you have a horse!” Claudette said, rolling her eyes as she gave the mabari even more of her attention. 

“Can we not bring Ellie into this, she hasn’t done anything wrong,” He told her, looking back at them with a reproachful glare before turning back to settle into his seat even more. “Now if you don’t mind I would like to get some sleep on the journey home.”

“Why don’t you sleep on the plane like last time?” Amelie asked him, her hand resting on the soft fur at Leo’s neck as he sighed sleepily. “You have sleeping pills right?”

“I can’t take those, Amy,” He sighed in exasperation, as if she’d just suggested that he emigrate to Tevinter. “I’ve been drinking, I’d probably die or something.”

“That was ages ago, you’ll be fine by now,” She shrugged.

“No, I had more this morning,” His eyes turned back to the road ahead of him as a smile slowly crept across his face. “Best hangover cure ever: drinking a glass of wine while you’re both naked and you’re just lying there with-”

All of them groaned, although Amelie thought she saw Cullen smirk from a suppressed chuckle before shaking his head as if he had a fly in his hair. 

“Am I going to have to hear about this for the whole flight?” Claudette moaned, earning a mischievous grin from their brother.

“Oh yes!” He said, lifting his sunglasses onto his forehead as he looked at her with twinkling hazel eyes. “But of course, not all the time. Because I’ll need to hear more about you and your little fling.” Her face reddened at his words, but Amelie noticed that he wasn’t looking at her, he was looking at Cullen. “Judging by your face, I get the feeling he’s someone you know.”

And suddenly, Amelie realised just how good he was at reading people, finding out things they weren’t willing to tell as he looked at them with furrowed brows and lured them with a charming air. But then, wasn’t that the game?

“You know,” She interrupted the interrogation with slow, knowing words, luring his attention away from the others and towards her, where she greeted him with a smile. “You never told us who you were with last night.”

She was certain she saw him stiffen ever so slightly, his lips twitching as his smile dropped for a second, before he composed himself, and look at her with his usual, mischievous grin. “Oh Amy,” He teased, chuckling under his breath as he turned around and settled back into his seat once again and dropped the sunglasses back over his eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

 


	23. Comfort...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelie and Cullen have been left alone for the first time since they restarted their relationship, and they take the chance to get comfortable with each other once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter! There's an explanation below!

They slipped back into a comfortable sense of familiarity with such ease that it was as if that fateful night all those weeks ago had never happened. As soon as her siblings left the terminal, and the two of them were left truly alone for the first time since they’d gotten back together, they were at ease. They didn’t even say much, their eyes were heavy, protesting the lack of sleep, but they were comfortable, their hands slotted together as if they had been made for one another, and their lips formed quiet, knowing smiles that Amelie thought could never possibly wear thin. 

The sun shone down upon Val Royeaux once again, and soon, the winter snows would pass. But for now, their bodies cried out for sleep, and they fell onto his bed in each others arms and drifted into the Fade. 

She was the first to wake once again, crawling her consciousness into the waking world with her limbs aching from the effort and her eyes weary as she dragged herself off of the bed with some reluctance. But before she could get up and walk away, her eyes fell upon Cullen’s sleeping form as he lay half dressed on top of the covers with his dog at his feet. She couldn’t help herself; leaning over to touch the skin on his arm with a outstretched fingers. But his skin was clammy, gleaming with sweat, and she quickly recoiled her hand and pulled a face. Was it that hot in here? Maybe she should open the window. Although once she did, she realised that snow had begun to fall once again, and soft white flakes were now drifting into the room and melting into the windowsill. But it was nice, refreshing, and watching the snow fall from the grey sky and disappear into the already snow covered ground was somewhat satisfying.

She would have sat there for hours if the dog hadn’t started barking, cutting through her inner peace like a hot knife slices through butter. She almost jumped out of her skin, swearing loudly as she whirled around to curse the great lumbering war hound. But she didn’t, instead, she watched Cullen chuckle under his breath as he brought the dog onto his lap for a cuddle as the large wet tongue licked his face, leaving a trail of slobber that even extended into his hair. 

“It’s alright,” Cullen told her as he noticed the look of alarm on her face. “He just wakes me up when I have bad dreams.”

“Bad dreams?” She asked, perching herself back down on the bed and earning herself a slobbery lick on the face from Leo. “Do you get them a lot?”

“Yeah,” He sighed with a weary smile, pushing the dog off of his lap as he edged closer to her, pulling her into his arms and resting his face in her hair.

“About Kirkwall?” She asked him, relaxing into his embrace as she felt his arms wrap around her while the dog looked at them with a scowl as if he had been betrayed. 

“Yeah, and Ferelden,” She felt him shrug as she leant her head against his chest, his hand stroking the exposed skin on her arm as he held her close.

“Ferelden?” She pulled away slightly, screwing her face up in a mixture of confusion and concern as she looked up at him. “Were you there too?” 

“Yeah, that was the first place I was sent,” He told her with a breezy air, but as she turned to look at him his eyes were the colour of a dark whiskey rather than a honey gold, and his smile had momentarily faded, leaving all but a ghost of its former cheer marred by a scar that, in the dim light of the morning, looked more angry than usual.

“Cullen, do you have the worst luck in the world?” He laughed at her words, pulling her back into his hold with a tightened grip, as if he were afraid that, were he to let go, he would lose her, never hold her again. But she would never do that to him again, she had learnt her lesson.

“I don't know, actually. I’m still alive, right?” He shrugged, tightening his hold on her again as he buried himself into her hair, where he stayed for some time, breathing in and out with deep breaths that tickler the skin on her neck. She could have stayed here forever, sitting in his arms with her head against his exposed chest, his strong arms around her body. But, with a sigh, she stretched, trying to wriggle free of his grasp. But his arms were like pythons, holding her closer each time she moved so that she could never break free of his grip.

“Cullen, I need to-” Her words were interrupted by a high pitched scream that tore through the calm silence of the morning as it slipped from her mouth. She was on her back, Cullen was above her, and his fingers roamed beneath the white shirt he had given her that morning, dancing across the skin on her stomach with nails that tickled as they moved. She was weak to the power his fingers had as they raced across her skin, forcing her to convulse and laugh and shriek as he smiled mischievously above her. “Cullen! I. Need. To. Shower!”

“Hmm. Yeah, I can tell,” He sniffed, pulling a face and drawing back from her as she breathed a sigh of relief. But she was still trapped, he’d brought his legs either side of her, stopping her from wriggly free with his strong thighs as he sat on top of her. “But I was going to shower too.”

“Well fine, you can go first,” She shrugged, turning her face away from him as much as she could. “It is your house.”

“Or we could just do it together?” He asked her, looking down at her with a chuckle, before he registered her bemused look and the smile died and he looked at her with confusion. “Have you never done that before?”

“No!” She cried, before gathering herself and talking to him with slow, deliberate words. “I don’t know what Kirkwall was like, but at Ostwick we had communal showers. So no, we didn’t get it on in the shower.”

“Well I wasn’t suggesting _that_ necessarily…” His eyes twinkled as he looked down at her with a cheeky grin. “Unless you want to of course.”

“Well I wasn’t saying that…” She pursed her lips, avoiding his gaze as she felt a wave of pink surge up her neck towards her cheeks. “I was just...you know.”

“No, I don’t know,” He smiled down at her, leaning forward so that his nose almost touched hers, his eyes scanning her face with a hint of desperation. She wanted to tease him, say something clever or witty, or even sexy. But she didn’t. The words she wanted to say so desperately came in the form of a kiss, a quick kiss planted on familiar lips that left so much that needed to be said. 

But they came not in the form of words, but in a dance between the two of them as they lay half dressed atop his bed, their lips moving in perfect synchronisation as affection turned to desire, desire to hunger, hunger to desperation. It had been so long since they had shared a space like this, since their thoughts had aligned and their wants focused on the acquisition of the others pleasure. And now, they revelled in it.

“So do you want to shower?” He asked her between a flurry of kisses which landed not just on her lips, but on her whole body, his words so quiet as he spoke against her skin that she could have sworn it was nothing more than breath. But she heard, and he didn’t need to ask again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know this is short but this is kind of a part 1 and there's a part 2 coming tomorrow. The reason I split this was because, even though this is an explicit fic, there will be some people out there who'd rather just skip the sexy parts and get on with the cutesy romance. And then there will be others who are the opposite, so in that case, they can just cut the crap and go straight to chapter 24. Also, it just fit very well like this, no idea why. A line break just didn't seem enough?
> 
> I've already started 24 and I can probably get it up tomorrow evening or saturday morning at the latest! So not too long to wait!


	24. ...and Desire.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making themselves comfortable again was the first step, then there comes the passion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This follows on directly from yesterday's chapter and so contains explicit sexual references. You can skip it without losing anything as it doesn't really contribute to the plot (hence why i broke this into two), it's more of a bit of a break from the plot heavy stuff and a reward for sticking by me for 24 chapters! So enjoy! <3

Their kiss appeared to last an eternity, but that was exactly what Amelie wanted, needed, after so long of being starved of the man who made her so happy, so content. His kisses were a blessing, and beneath him, she was at peace.

But his kisses were only the beginning, a taste of what he could offer her. They were the soft caresses that graced her lips, her neck, her chest, the gentle brush of soft scarred lips against freckled skin. They caught her, enraptured her in the majesty of his presence, and they pulled her in and left her wanting so much more. 

“So do you want to shower?” His words were barely a whisper, a rumble of hushed breath against the skin on her breast. But she heard them, of course she did. Every sense was heightened just to him. Even the whining of his dog was mute to her, she only had attention for him. 

“Alright then,” She smiled at him, watching him as he watched her, making note of every movement and every breath as she studied him like a sacred text. He took her hand, his fingers lacing in her own as he pulled her off of the bed with a delicate air. And slowly, they crept towards the bathroom, stealing glances at one another as they fought to suppress their mischievous smiles.

His bathroom was cold, so cold that when he undressed her, he did so slowly, revealing the goose pimpled skin bit by bit, replacing the soft fabric of his shirt with the warm brush of his hands. His hands were rougher than she would have liked, worn and bruised from years of hard work and neglect. But against her skin, they felt gentle and soft, mirroring the affection of the man they belonged to with smooth, elegant strides as they roamed and roamed, exploring, wondering, caressing and smothering. She had been starved of his touch for too long, but now it was almost too much.

She turned in his arms, her eyes falling on his bare chest as he her hands fell on his torso, slotting into the grooves of his waist with ease as he eyes roamed the familiar paths of hair that travelled all the way down his chest, his torso, the paths that she had travelled so many times before. But had she savoured them? Had she enjoyed every second, taken time to revel not just in the pleasure of the moment but in the path to it? Had she taken Cullen’s presence for granted?

Not anymore. Not this time.

Her kiss was vicious. It was desperate, it was hungry, it tore at all the bitter memories of the bad times they had had and turned them to dust. But with every movement of her lips, her hands, the tips of her fingers, they made new ones, memories fringed with gold and lined with silver, memories of desire and passion, but also memories of affection, care, maybe even love.

The pretense of having a shower soon dissipated. It was all too much for them, seeing one another exposed in such a way, exposed to the winter air as they held the other in their arms. But for Amelie, it was so much more than that. In his arms, she felt alive, she felt free, she felt the hot burning of a fire that now coursed through her veins which burst from her heart and travelled through every inch of her body, spreading from her chest and rising up, down her arm, into her hand, where it became as cold as ice as she felt hard crystals begin to form on the tips of her fingers.

She clenched her fist, and stopped. Breathing heavily, she shook her head as she tried to pull away from him. But he wouldn’t let her, his arms clutching at her as she tried to wriggle free, tried to turn away. His hand was on hers now, smothering the icy cold fingers with the warmth from his skin as she turned to watch him bring her hand to his chest. It was her right hand, the one that, with the absence of a staff, was now her weapon, the one she had seen the rebellion use as a symbol for its power to instill fear. But he held it, he kissed it, he kept it close to his heart. 

“It’s ok,” He told her, his words a faint whisper as he spoke into the skin on her hand. His eyes were locked to hers, his other hand holding her head so she couldn’t escape his gaze. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I do!” She cried, grasping at his arms as she shook her head, urging mind to clear and her heart to stop racing. “I’m sorry, it’s just been such an emotional few days.” She looked up at him then, pleading him, begging him not to give up on her, not to be put off, be afraid, leave her on the cold floor of his bathroom with nothing but the shadow of his touch. “I do want to do this, I promise. I’m sorry, I’ll control it next time.”

“It’s ok,” He repeated, drawing her closer so that her head rested against his chest, his fingers combing through her hair as she soaked in the comforting smell of his skin. “You can’t help it. Don’t beat yourself up for things you can’t control.”

She wanted to argue, protest, because she could control it, she had been taught how to control it. And in five minutes, under the influence of Cullen’s presence, all that training had turned to dust. She could have hurt him, maybe he had been right to be scared.

“Come on, Amy,” Her head jerked up at the mention of her nickname, the name her brother called her, the one her uncle had used when they were in the Circle, and she looked at him with her face screwed up in confusion. But all he did was laugh. “I’m sorry, I think it’s a cute name.” He chuckled as he pulled away, clinging onto her hand like his life depended on it as he circled around her to reach the shower cubicle behind them. He eventually let go of her hand as he fiddled with the buttons on the shower and hot water sprayed onto the cubicle floor, filling the room with a warm steam that gathered around the transparent cubicle walls and rose up to cover them in a blanket of fog. He looked back at her with a smile as he undressed, a slanted smile that made her heart skip a beat. But she couldn’t smile back, not yet, and soon his smile turned to a frown. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you feel safe with me?” The words fell out of her with such speed that they were almost unintelligible, her eyes were cast down as she watched her fingers pick at the loose threads of skin by her nails. 

He took his time to answer, but his words were genuine, soft, but blunt in that they told her she was being stupid, anxious, silly. “Of course I do,” He said calmly. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

He was right, she knew it. He wouldn’t be here, he wouldn’t have come back, if he didn’t feel safe. But that was the life she led, she was always on edge, always wary, always holding back because one mistake, one misstep, one moment where she let herself go, let herself be free, and she could lose everything.

But as she climbed into the shower after him, and the warm water splashed upon her cold skin, she felt herself begin to relax again. It was Cullen, he calmed her, relaxed her, brought her to a place where she could almost stop worrying, where she could almost be entirely carefree. And that was enough, riding that line between caution and recklessness.

She went to grab his shampoo but his hands remained firmly on the bottle as he squeezed more into his hands, far too much , she thought, for the small amount of hair he had. But he never raised his hand to his head, he raised it to hers, running his hand over her dripping wet hair. He rubbed the soap into her hair, gathering it into a bundle in his hands as he massaged the lather through the thin red strands, his fingers reaching her scalp as they spread through the hair like tendrils. She melted beneath his touch, relaxing into his arms as he held her close, with one hand abandoning the soap on her hair and travelling down her neck, past her shoulders, and onto her breast.

With each movement of his palm on her skin, with each touch of his lips on her neck, with each second that the water trickled over their skin as they held each other, the desire grew in the pit of her stomach once again. The fire rekindled, her heart was alight with the promise of pleasure. But she could control it this time, she knew she could, because she wanted to, she had to, she needed to.

She turned back to him, and his hands left her. He was worried, she could tell, his eyes watching her with some hesitation as she stood naked in front of him with water trickling down her shoulders and over her breasts. But she approached him with small, slow steps, bringing herself to him with outstretched arms that wound around his wet torso and held him to her so that she could bring his lips to his once again. And while her lips worked, so did her hands, her fingers creeping along his skin and down his back, around his pelvis, until she felt her way towards an area which made him break their kiss and gasp.

He offered to treat her in the same way, his fingers teasing at her stomach, her waist, her hips. But this moment wasn’t for her, it was for him, and very soon, he gave in. 

Their moans, their sighs, the whispers caught on ragged breaths, were all lost beneath the cascade of warm water that fell on their skin as she watched him ride the wave of pleasure beneath the workings of her hands. But of course, it wasn’t just her hands, it was her mouth, her tongue, the slight touch of teeth on skin as she worked downwards, stopping only when her knees hit the wet floor. That was how she finished him, on her knees, with water pooling at her feet as water trickled off of their naked bodies and washed away the evidence of their passion. 

She pushed herself off of the wet floor to meet him, but a gentle hand on her shoulder pushed her back down again as Cullen sunk to the floor in front of her, his chest rising and falling as he gasped for breath. She watched him with a smile, but said nothing, only silence reigned between the two of them. But there was a look in his golden eyes, a twinkle of desire, that told her that her time would come soon, and her work would be repaid.

That was how they spent the remainder of the Satinalia holiday, together, reveling in one another's company and basking in their shared passion. It was a holiday that she would never forget, and it was a holiday she wished would never end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and I really hope you enjoyed it! I haven't written anything sexy in ages so might be a rusty (so be nice lol), but I hope it was all ok! I'll be back again soon with something that actually goes somewhere, but this was a bit of fun to lighten the load a bit!


	25. A Sense of Normality and a Tide of Intrigue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The New Years ball is over, and Satinalia is no more than a distant memory to Amelie now. After the excitement of it all. everything seems to be getting back to normal now, Amelie and Cullen are back to work and there's plenty to keep them busy. But there's always something going on in Val Royeaux, and Amelie's life is always filled with new hurdles.
> 
> Her first day back at work promises to be a busy one, all she can hope for is that the rest of the year is less so.

The door slammed shut behind her as she stepped out onto the snow covered path, signalling the end of her Satinalia holiday with a thud as the ice covered door frame shook violently. In the weeks since she had last made her commute to work, the snow had only fallen with a greater vengeance, to the point where she had forgotten the sight of concrete pavements and luscious green trees. Ostwick had had snow too, but if her sisters constant updates on Thedashare were anything to go by, the snow had since ceased to fall on the Free Marches, and fresh drifts of snow were being replaced by drops of hail and deadly sheets of ice. She wasn't sure what was worse, but there was something magical about seeing the ground covered in snow, something that set off a childish urge to find wonder in the way the rays of sunlight sparkled off of the crystal shards beneath her feet. The urge to sink her gloved hands beneath the drifts of snow that gathered on every fence and garden wall remained strong for most of her journey to work.

Unfortunately, the snow meant that her bus to work had been cancelled every morning for the foreseeable future, which made her even less keen to trudge into work that morning. But it was her first day back since Satinalia, and the first time she would see her friends since New Year. 

No one knew what had happened that night, as far as she was aware at least. But it was her little secret, and she hoped to keep it that way.

Her phone sang in her pocket just as she reached the road that lead to her university, where a group of protesters appeared to have gathered with signs and chants that she couldn't be bothered to pay attention to. She took the leaflet from their hand without even looking, choosing instead to focus her attention on reaching into her handbag for her phone. 

It was her brother, of course it was.

She shoved it back into her bag with the leaflet, and vowed to read it once she got to her office. But first, she had to cross the icy campus without falling on her ass, a feat she somehow managed to achieve, although there was a near miss outside the maths department building.

_“Hi Amy, is it your first day back today? Hope it goes ok, remember to book off the Friday of Antony’s birthday weekend. :) xxx.”_ She read as she closed her office door behind her, breathing a heavy sigh as she threw her handbag down on the floor and sunk into her office chair. As if she could forget about Antony’s birthday, it had been the hot topic of conversation for the past week, and it probably would remain so for the next month, if she knew her brother at all.

_“Sorting it out now xx_.” Her response was short, but then again, she did technically have work to do. In fact, it was a large pile of work, and it sat on top of her desk taunting her with its towering height and a small post it note that said _“Hope you had a lovely holiday- Josie”._ She had had a lovely holiday, actually, and thinking back on it made her smile like a silly school girl.

All those days spent with Cullen, all those _nights_ spent with Cullen, remembering them all made her heart flutter in her chest as she sifted through moderated essay marks with her head in the clouds. Remembering his smile, the touch of his fingers on her skin, the scratching of his stubble against her neck, it made her giddy, her mind wandering away from the reams of essays on Exalted Marches and prophets. Until a sharp knock at the door made her jump out of her seat, forcing the smile off of her face as she called for them to enter.

“Hello! Did you have a good holiday?” Josephine asked in a cheery, sing song voice as she poked her head around the door.

“Yeah, I did thanks,” She said, forcing a measured smile onto her face as she turned to her cheery co-worker. 

“Did you do anything exciting?” She asked her as she edged into her office, leaving the door ever so slightly open so that the noise from the corridor filtered into her quiet office.

Did she do anything exciting? Well, of course she did. Once again, she remembered all those days spent with Cullen, all the mornings spent in each other's arms. A hot red flush was crawling up her neck now, threatening to turn her face a bright shade of red until she coughed sharply. “No, not really,” She answered quickly, turning back to her pile of marking as she fought to suppress the tide of red that was climbing up her face.

“Oh well, typical Satinalia I guess,” Josephine said nonchalantly, causing Amelie to breathe a sigh of relief. 

“I’m glad you came by, actually,” She told her, turning the conversation around sharply as she cleared her throat once again. “I was going to ask you about booking a day off next month.”

“You'll have to email me about it, looks like we're going to be closing early today,” She sighed, folding her arms across her chest as she rolled her eyes. “Some idiot called a Templar Containment Squad on those protesters outside.”

“Templars?” She cried, forgetting herself for one, slightly dangerous, second before clearing her throat once again. “Sorry, I'm just getting over a cold.” She said hurriedly. “So there's Templars on campus?”

“Yeah, so there's a whole standoff going on there now, it looks like they'll send everyone home within half an hour, for safety reasons,” Josephine shrugged. “We were going to go for coffee though if you wanted to join us?”

“Yeah, sure,” She said with a smile as she mentally thanked the Maker for giving her an excuse to leave campus and get as far away from the Templars as possible. 

“Great!” She cried, a beaming smile spreading across her face. “I'll meet you outside the building then. Oh, and send that email and I'll deal with it when we're back at work.”

Josephine left her office with one last smile, closing the door behind her with a gentle click. Amelie didn't bother to return to her pile of work, instead, she ran to the window and peered into the courtyard outside, where everything would have appeared normal if the flashing red lights of a Templar van weren't illuminating the red brick walls of the university and drowning them all in a sea of red. She lurched away from the window almost immediately and pulled the blinds down in a hurry as she sunk into her office chair and out of sight.

Templars were at her university. She felt trapped, like a sitting duck waiting to meet its end. Except, if Josephine was correct, she had a means to escape. But she was conscious of the minutes ticking by on the clock on her screen, and every second that she spent in her office made her more and more nervous. 

Her phone buzzed in her bag again, this time for much longer, and she lurched forward to answer the call.

“Cullen?” She asked into the phone with a degree of surprise. 

“I was just checking that everything was ok,” He said, and she could hear the concern in his voice as he spoke to her with somewhat hushed tones. “I heard that someone called the Templars on the university.”

“Yeah, I'm fine, it was just some protesters,” She told him, just as her eyes fell on the leaflet she had bundled into her bag this morning, a leaflet that she hadn't even realised showed the image of a mage breaking free of chains which pulled on their arms as they rose a fire covered hand above their head. With some speed, she hurried over to the shredder on the floor of her office and fed the leaflet through with an exasperated sigh.

“Amelie?” Cullen asked her as the mechanism whirred in protest. “Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, sorry,” She said as she relaxed into her office chair. “Josephine said we’ll be sent home soon, we're going to get lunch together I think.”

“Ok, so you won't be left alone?” He asked her.

“No, I'll be fine, don't worry,” She told him with a smile, before veering the conversation on another course. “Did you book off that Friday by the way?”

“Yeah did that first thing,” He assured her. “Did you?”

“Not yet, I'll send an email in a bit,” She said while using her free hand to open up her emails. “I don't know why you want to come anyway.”

“Because I already said I would,” He sighed. “Anyway, I'll talk later, I'd better get back to work. Let me know if anything happens.”

“I will, thank you,” She said with a smile. “See you later.”

As soon as they said their goodbyes, she worked on getting that email sorted, motivated not only by the thought of missing her nephews birthday, but also by the thought of what disastrous things could happen if Cullen were made to go Ostwick and deal with her parents by himself. But as soon as she started typing, a tiny pop up in the corner of her screen told her that the university was closed and that they should all go home ‘for their safety’, and soon enough, she was leaving the building after only having spent about two hours at work. There was at the very least one thing the Templars were good for, and that was disrupting society well enough to give her a half day, as well as the odd occasion where they actually did their jobs properly.

And she could thank the Maker at least that her first day of work was over already, and now she could have a nice, quiet coffee with her work friends.

“I'm so glad to be out of there now,” Josephine said as they sat themselves down on a wobbly wooden table in the corner of a nearby coffee shop with their hands cradling their drinks as they shivered beneath thick coats and woolen scarves. “It was all so tense, wasn't it!”

“Yeah, it was,” Dorian said with an eyebrow raised at Amelie as he dived into his latte. 

“Well these things are bound to happen,” Leliana sighed as she brought her cup of tea to her lips. “Tensions are very high at the moment with all the debates going on right now.”

“Let's talk about something else!” Josephine said, shaking her head as she cradled her mocha with gloved hands. “Amelie, I haven't seen you since the ball. Did you do anything exciting afterwards? Meet anyone nice?”

“No, I just took my sister home,” It wasn't exactly a lie, she _hadn't_ taken anyone home except her sister. Cullen had turned up much later. 

“She's lying,” Both Dorian and Leliana both said this, much to her surprise. And Josephine's apparently, who almost spit out her drink before turning to look at Amelie with a look of horror. 

“Amelie!” She said, looking at her with wide brown eyes that bore into her as she felt herself turn a bright shade of red. “You dog!”

“Who says I’m lying?” She questioned the two sat opposite her, who were studying her with narrowed eyes as she hid behind her mug of coffee.

“Your face says you’re lying,” Leliana shrugged, pouring herself more tea from the ornate teapot which rested on the table in front of her as Amelie’s face grew a more vibrant shade of red. “You have a really guilty look.”

“I just keep up with the gossip,” Dorian told her, throwing her a wink before diving back into his latte.

“From who?” She asked, leaning back in her chair as she moved to study Dorian’s expression. He appeared to be pondering his answer, she could practically see the gears in his brain working to formulate a response as he lowered his mug to the table.

“You forget that I know some of Cullen’s friends quite well,” He reminded her, his lips forming a mischievous smile beneath his immaculate handlebar moustache. “From...previous encounters.”

She was about to ask which friend, determined not just to know who had been telling the whole of Val Royeaux about her sex life, but also, determined to find out if he was telling the whole truth. Because there was something about the way his brown eyes fell to the mug in front of him whenever she asked him a question that told her that there was something else there that he was less keen to talk about. But Josephine interrupted her with a high pitched squeal that made a few of the other patrons slam their mugs down on the table in alarm. 

“Cullen?” She asked, turning to Amelie with her hands clasped to her mouth. “You mean, the hunky army man? You’re seeing him again?”

“Yeah, but it’s a bit of a long story,” She said dismissively, glancing down at the delicate silver watch that her brother had given her for Satinalia. 

“Oh Josie, that’s old news to the rest of us!” Leliana rolled her eyes, before fixing her gaze on Amelie and leaning in ever so slightly closer as she dropped her voice. “I’m more interested in what went down with your sister.”

The others on the table gasped before imitating Leliana and leaning in with their eyes fixed on her. “How do you know about that?” She asked Leliana, folding her arms across her chest as she leant back in her chair. 

“You need to be more careful about what you say around drunk girls in bathrooms,” Leliana said quietly with mischief flashing across her eyes as she smiled up at Amelie with a wicked grin. Of course, Amelie had forgotten that Leliana had been in the same bathroom when Claudette had cried on her shoulder, in fact, she’d completely forgotten that they had been in public at all. 

“What happened?” Josephine whispered, leaning in so close that hints of floral perfume wafted into Amelie's nose, causing her to clear her throat once again.

“I really shouldn’t go around telling people,” She said, forcing Josephine to roll her eyes and glance down at her phone as she pulled it out of her bag. “It’s her personal business.”

But not a minute later, after a brief scroll through her phone, Josephine spoke again. “Did her husband cheat on her?”

“Josephine!” Amelie cried as she heard Dorian scoff into his mug. “Why do you say that?” Although of course, she was entirely correct.

“Well her last few photos have been of her at New Year, her getting her nails done with the caption ‘sometimes you need to treat yourself’, and her at a social event by herself when they always went together before,” Josephine rambled through her words like a detective on a crime show, all the while scrolling through what looked like her sister’s Thedashare page. “Sounds like there was a domestic to me, and it would have to have been pretty big to make her desperate enough to spend the entire of New Year’s attached to that other guys face.”

“You saw that?” Amelie asked, staring into Josephine’s face with her mouth agape.

“Yes we saw that! Half of Val Royeaux saw that, I imagine,” Dorian said nonchalantly. “Although of course, it wouldn’t mean anything normally, that’s the whole point of the ball after all. But Josephine’s right, if there’s been a domestic, it suddenly becomes a much bigger issue.”

“It’s his fault for cheating on her,” Leliana shrugged as she drunk the last dregs of her tea. “You’d have to be an idiot to cheat on someone who’s both that gorgeous _and_ that well connected.”

“You’re right, she _is_ gorgeous,” Josephine cooed as she stared into the distance with a dream like expression. “I have to know where she gets her hair done! Especially after seeing her at New Years, she looked stunning.”

“Actually that was my brother. He used to play with my hair a lot when we were younger and I guess he got good at it,” Amelie told them, receiving a look of surprise from Josephine and Leliana. “But anyway, do you all follow my sister on Thedashare?”

“Yeah, I do,” They all murmured in agreement while Leliana added: “I follow your brother too, actually. But he’s not as interesting, unless you want to know how to look after your border plants.”

“Oh I do actually, mine always die,” Josephine said, pulling out her phone once again before adding. “Oh that’s some nice tweed.”

“Dorian, do you follow my siblings too?” She asked him with a degree of curiosity as she wondered exactly how many of her friends had decided to keep up to date with the personal lives of her family members.

“Yeah, although I agree on the plant thing,” He said nonchalantly, folding his arms across his chest as he leant back in his chair. “It does get a bit tedious.”

“Right, well I’ll make sure to them that all my friends are avid followers when I go to Ostwick next month, then” She said, shaking her head as she suppressed an exasperated chuckle. 

“Oh I forgot to ask!” Josephine cried, whirling around to stare into Amelie’s face once again with her beady, brown eyes. “Is Cullen going with you?”

“Yeah he is,” She said with an air of indifference. “My brother invited him. I think they get on quite well?”

“So he’s meeting your family?” Leliana asked, leaning forward and resting her chin on a delicate hand. “That’s a big step, you know.”

“It isn’t really…” Amelie shrugged, although she could feel a blush extending up her neck once again. “Is it?”

“Yes!” They cried in unison, before Josephine added: “I hope he’s prepared for it.”

“I hope _you’re_ prepared for it,” Dorian scoffed.

“It’s not that big of a deal…” Amelie told them as she shook her head violently. “My parents are a bit intense, but it’s just a normal part of a relationship, it has to happen at some point.”

“It does if you’re serious,” Leliana shrugged, peering into Amelie’s eyes as she felt herself redden under the weight of her stare. “So are you serious?”

“Do you love him?” Josephine asked with a squeal as she grabbed Amelie’s hand in excitement. 

“Josephine!” Amelie cried, whirling around to address her with a piercing glare and furrowed brows. “Of course not! We’ve only known each other for a few months, that’s not long enough to love someone!”

But as she said those words, she found herself growing steadily less sure of herself. Was their relationship moving forward, becoming more serious? Was what she felt around him just giddy, childish excitement, or was it more?

And was it such a good idea to bring him to Ostwick after all?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I do apologise for dumping so much on you in 3000 words, but there was a lot of new stuff to open up after the last few chapters! There's a couple of plot threads starting up here, so I would recommend paying lots of attention because some of those will pay off sooner than others.
> 
> But anyway, I'm taking a holiday so not sure when the next chapter will be. But I hope you enjoyed and see you next time! <3


	26. Journey to Easton Hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Easton Hall, in the village of Easton just outside of Ostwick, has been in the Trevelyan family for generations. Now, Amelie and Cullen must make their way to this historic estate for a weekend which promises to be eventful, and one in which Cullen will come face to face with all of her family, including her parents, Bann Ferdinand and Lady Corrine Trevelyan.

“Well I won't hold out much hope,” Her mother had said to her on the phone as they discussed the oncoming journey to Easton Hall some weeks ago. “A month is a long time. After all, it only took about a month for you both to fall out last time.”

Her words had echoed around her mind for about three weeks now, and she was determined for them not to ring true. She would drag Cullen onto that plane by his ears if it meant she could prove her mother wrong. But there was no need for that, he seemed more excited to go than she was, turning up at her door on Thursday evening with Leo at his feet and a large bag swung over his shoulder.

“Plane tickets are booked!” He told her excitedly as she welcomed him into her home. “We're leaving early tomorrow seeing as they're a few hours ahead.”

“That's great, Cullen,” She said, her enthusiasm lacking as her mother's words pounded at her eardrums while she watched him collapse onto her sofa while Leo leant patiently against her legs. “But, sorry, are you bringing the dog?”

“Oh yeah, don't worry,” He shrugged, reclining against her sofa cushions and planting his feet on the arm of her sofa. “He said it was fine, your sister is taking hers so it won't just be him.”

“Oh right, ok,” She said, perching herself on the arm of the sofa before turning to him with a frown. “Wait, my sister?”

“Yeah, apparently she got herself a dog,” He told her, sitting himself up with a degree of effort as he held his arms out to her, signalling for her to shuffle over and plant herself on the cushions beside him. “I was talking to your brother on the phone about it, no one's met it yet but her husband went crazy at her.”

“When did you start knowing more about my family than me?” She asked him, turning to him with an expression that was half confusion and half disbelief. But he noted her expression of bewilderment, and she soon found herself drawn into his hold as he brought her to him with strong arms. 

“Don't be upset about it,” He sighed, causing her to open her mouth as she fought to protest. “Your brother still loves you more than he loves me, for now.”

“Well, at least you don't seem too worried about going,” She mused as she relaxed into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder as he brought her close. “I thought you'd be terrified, I know you can get a bit awkward around people.”

“I'm not worried, not yet anyway,” He said as she felt his chest rise with the exhale of a gentle chuckle. “I might be on Saturday morning though.”

“You don't have to come if you don't want to,” She reminded him, although her mother's words pounded around her mind as she spoke her words. 

“No, I'll come, I said I would,” He assured her with a squeeze of her shoulder with his hand. “It can't be that bad.”

“No, it's going to be bad,” She sighed, drawing herself up out of his hold and turning to gaze into his honey coloured eyes. “My mother is embarrassing and my relationship with my father is just...awkward,” She began, ticking off her list with a flick of her fingers. “My sister's marriage seems to get worse every week because her husband is horrible. And on top of that, my nephews are going to be there!”

“What's wrong with your nephews?” Cullen asked her with a scoff. “They're kids right? I'm sure I'll cope.”

“Nothing’s wrong with them!” She said, rolling her eyes as she scolded him for his teasing with a gentle push of her hand against his chest. “It just means that Jennifer is going to be there at some point which means there's almost _certainly_ going to be drama...”

“Well good thing I brought the dog,” He said with a nonchalant air as he brought his hand down to scratch Leo behind the ears. “We just say he needs to go out to pee and we don't have to get involved. That always works.”

“Do you do that often?” She asked him with her brows furrowed and her face scrunched up in confusion.

“All the time, especially at one of Cassandra’s diplomatic galas,” He told her, smiling down at her with a proud grin as he held her with a firm, comforting grip. “But anyway, we should head to bed early tonight. We have to be up _really_ early tomorrow.”

“But not too early?” She asked him with a frown, before she raised her hand slowly to the neck of his shirt, where she let her fingers dance against the exposed skin of his neck. “I'd like to make the most of having you all by myself.” Her fingers wondered further down his neck, and her face came closer to his as her voice dropped to a whisper. “In a house where we're completely…” She brought her lips to his with a kiss that lasted a fraction of a second, but she didn't pull back, she stayed as close to him as she dared. So close, that her next word was spoken into the soft pink skin on his bottom lip with no more volume than a regular breath. “Alone.”

Her teasing drove him into a frenzy, as it always did, and she got the response she wanted. She was led down with her head against the sofa cushions while Cullen had her pinned with strong legs that held her down on either side of her torso, and she was right where she wanted to be, at the mercy of his lips and at the whim of their shared pursuit for pleasure.

\-----

“So, do you know what’s happening now or should I go over it again?” Amelie’s words were directed at Cullen, but her eyes were on the acres of plush green land that stretched out for miles as their car pulled into the long driveway of Easton Hall. It was breathtaking, all those acres of fields which shone a dazzling emerald green beneath the late afternoon sun. Val Royeaux had shivered beneath a blanket of snow that had sat upon its weary shoulders since well before Satinalia, and only now, almost six weeks after First Day, had those snows started to melt. “It’s just us tonight, so it won’t be too much for you. And remember that Antony is turning seven-”

“Yes, I know,” He sighed, as she felt his fingers tense within her own, where they had been gripping on to her with an vice like grip for the past three hours or so, accompanied by the occasional lick from Leo as he sat on Cullen’s lap for most of the car ride. “You’ve been through it about six times now.”

“Well you told me to keep talking to calm your nerves!” She said defensively, turning her head away from the window as their car came to a halt. “I didn’t realise you hated flying so much, and I didn’t know what else to talk about…”

“You’re really nervous about this, aren’t you?” He realised as he turned to watch her fidget in her seat beside him. She turned away from him, her eyes falling on the car door as it was swung open beside her, but he loosened his hand from hers and instead placed it gently on her upper arm, keeping her on her seat as he moved to comfort her nerves. “It’s going to be fine, I’ve met most of your family before anyway. And I got on well with your brother and sister.”

“It’s not _them_ I’m worried about,” She sighed, her mother’s words echoing around her thoughts once again. But there was something comforting about Cullen’s calm demeanour, the way he sat with no trace of concern on his face even as the tell tale shriek of children erupted around them. He was always so solid and proud, even when faced with moments _she_ would find terrifying. But it was good for her, it really was. 

“Auntie Amy!” A shrill voice called to her as she rose from the car. Or, rather, two shrill voices, from two very small ginger haired children who ran towards their car at full speed, coming to a dramatic stop in front of her as she climbed out of the car with such a ferocity that she could have sworn that pieces of gravel had gone flying as their feet skidded to a halt. She went to greet them, but her words were cut off by the resolute curiosity of her youngest nephew.

“Who’s that man?” Francis asked with his tiny arm stretched out wide and his finger pointing towards Cullen. “He has a _huge_ dog!”

“That’s her _boyfriend_ ,” Antony said as he burst into a fit of giggles which caused him to keel over, his hands pressing on his thighs as he fought to keep himself upright. “Dad! Auntie Amy has a boyfriend!”

“I know she has a boyfriend,” Lionel sighed as he approached the car at a saunter, his hands thrust into the pockets of his trousers as his expensive looking tweed jacket rippled in the gentle, cool breeze. “Stop pestering her about it otherwise she might go home again.” The smile he threw at her was heartwarming, and it was one she hadn’t seen from him since before First Day. But then he was always a social man, and it must be lonely at Easton Hall with no one to entertain, and she was sure he revelled in the chance to welcome people into his home once again. “And we don’t want to scare Cullen off, this is his first time here after all.”

“It’s alright,” He assured him with a smile as he looked wistfully over the grounds of Easton Hall which appeared to be a never ending stretch of dazzling green. “This is such a beautiful place.”

“Well I hope you feel the same way when you actually step inside,” He grinned, before skipping past them as he marched towards the large oak front doors. “I’ll show you to your rooms,” He called to them as they followed dutifully behind, with the two children following almost at a run. “Sorry I’ve had to put you in separate rooms, Mother and Father are really weird about it. But they aren’t here until tomorrow so until then, do what you want.”

He threw them a wink over his shoulder as he went to launch himself up the stairs to his home, but he was rooted to the spot by the words of his eldest child which cut through the tranquility and stillness of the late afternoon like a warm knife cuts through butter. “Dad, now they’re here, can I go riding?”

“What?” He asked, his brows furrowed as he looked down at Antony in confusion. “Did I say that?”

“Well you said we couldn’t go because you’d have to come with me and there would be no one to look after Francis,” He said with an air of triumph. “And now they’re here so they can look after him.”

Everyone was silent for a few seconds, and Amelie watched as her brothers face remained unmoving, as if frozen in time, while the gears in his brain worked as he tried to figure out if he had been outmaneuvered by a seven year old. But then the gears stopped turning, and he broke out into a smile. “Of course, go and get your stuff,” Antony cheered and bolted inside, while Lionel turned to them with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, you don’t mind looking after Francis? Aggie can show you to your rooms.”

“It’s alright,” She told him, reaching her hand out to Francis as he looked up at them expectantly. “Come on Francis, you can help us find our rooms.”

“Ok, but I don’t know where they are,” He admitted as he followed them through the great oak doors and into the cavernous marble lined hall, his tiny hand clutched in hers so tightly that it was almost as if his life depended on it. 

“You were right about Antony,” Cullen whispered to her as older child almost skidded past them on his way to the door. “It’s like your brother was cloned, they even _act_ the same.”

“I know, it’s really scary,” She replied, before turning to the older woman who stood watching them patiently at the bottom of the stairs with a polite smile. “Good afternoon, Agnes!”

“Good afternoon, MIss Amelie,” She smiled at the pair of them as people swarmed around them with bundles of their luggage, hoisting bags and coats and even a dog bed up the stairs behind her. “Shall I take you to your rooms?”

“That would be very helpful, thank you,” She said, and they fell into line behind her as she led them up the stairs and onto the vast upper floor lined with bedroom after bedroom; she didn’t even want to think about how many people could stay here at one time, it was like being in a hotel. But she couldn’t help but think to herself, as they walked past doorway after doorway, that this was all very large for one person.

She was deposited in a large double room that overlooked the lawns at the front of the house where, in the distance, she could see the stables where her brother and nephew had disappeared off to. And what she noticed, more so than she had on her stays here before, was how quiet it was. Her home in Val Royeaux was surrounded by busy streets lined with crowds, and roads heaving with traffic. But here, there was nothing but fields for miles and miles, the only hint of life coming from the hint of movement in the stables, and the village of Easton that sat on the horizon. 

“Amy! There you are!” Cullen called to her, and she turned her attention away from the window to find him stood in her doorway with Leo at his heel. “These rooms are so nice, have you seen the size of the baths?” 

He strolled into her room with his dog leading the way, his nose turned to the floor as he sniffed his way around the unfamiliar territory. “Sorry we’re in different rooms,” She said as she approached him slowly, her mind escaping to darker territories which involved Cullen and large baths as she all but forgot about the small boy who was clutching her hand. “But I’m sure we can make the most of it tonight?”

“I think we can, yeah,” He smiled down at her with a teasing, crooked smile, his honey coloured eyes twinkling down at her as she felt a wave of red rise into her cheeks. 

“Can I pet your dog?” A small voice called out to them, pulling them back to reality as they almost became lost in one another’s gaze. In embarrassment, Amelie’s gaze fell, her red cheeks burning as Cullen turned to address her nephew.

“Of course you can,” He smiled down at him before calling over his obedient mabari, who abandoned the bag he had been sniffing and trotted over diligently, sitting by his master’s leg with his ears pricked up towards the sky as if he were standing to attention.

“Let me help you,” Amelie said as she swooped down to sit at Francis’ side, his eyes wide with curiosity as he looked at the war hound who towered over him by a mile. But with his hand in hers, he reached over to stroke the soft fur of his neck, his small fingers passing over the silky fur so gently that she wondered if Leo even knew he was there. But it was good enough to elicit a delighted giggle from her nephew, one which tugged on her heartstrings and caused the pit of her stomach to do an excited leap. 

She looked over at Cullen, who had descended into a lecture about Ferelden war hounds with such ease that she knew he was truly in his element, and seeing him so calm and so at ease made her feel calm too. The world was quiet and still, there was no traffic here to disturb her sleep and no Templars to threaten her peace. It was just her and Cullen, here with her family, while bird song drifted in on a gentle breeze through the ancient latticed windows. She was at peace here, and it was a peace she hadn’t felt for a long time.

For the first time since this trip to Ostwick had been planned, she felt truly relaxed. And when they went to bed that night, after they had enjoyed a long bath together in what she would have described as a swimming pool rather than a bathtub, she fell straight to sleep in Cullen’s arms, soothed by the feeling of her head resting against the familiar curves of his chest as her mind wandered into the Fade.

All was quiet at Easton Hall, and sleep welcomed her into its arms like a mother cradles her child.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking a break from the editing to get a new chapter out! And sorry it's been a while this really was a task to get out and i was enjoying a...glamorous holiday. But there's some stuff that I think is really interesting coming up and this is such a big step for my babies so I'm very excited!


	27. The Interrogation of House Trevelyan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure i need to provide a summary really...if you're caught up, then you know what's coming.
> 
> So: Cullen meets the parents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up! Her parents are back, and they are nasty, emotional abusers, so be warned for references to emotional manipulation/abuse.

The sunlight never streamed in through the windows of Easton Hall, the curtains were too well made for that. Instead, she was woken first of all by a determined Cullen who was throwing on clothes and pulling a harness on Leo at six in the morning. But all she had done was groan and roll away, pressing her face into the soft pillow as she pulled the covers over her head. She had woken again when she felt the mattress sink beneath his weight as he returned to the comfort of the bed and wound his arms around her, cold from the chill of the morning air as they wrapped her in an icy sheath. 

But she had fallen asleep again, and now she was being woken by an insistent knocking on the door to Cullen’s room that only grew in both volume and persistency as time wore on. 

“What?” She snapped, her words little more than a groan as she pulled herself out of her dream and forced her eyes open. But any thoughts of continuing her sleep quickly disappeared once she saw that the door to their room was open and her brother was stood in the doorway. “Maker!” She cried, grabbing the sheets to cover her half naked body in a blur of desperation as she shot up from the bed. “What are you doing?”

“What? You said I could come in,” He shrugged as he leant against the doorframe with his hands behind his back, his tall frame blocking out any light that may have entered through the now open door. Unlike her, he was fully dressed, and according to the quick and excited manner in which he spoke, he was also fully awake. “Morning Cullen, good to see you up nice and early this morning!” He called as he poked his head around the door, before turning back to her with his hazel green eyes wide in shock. “Wow, that’s a lot of muscle,” He said to her under his breath, earning him a reproachful glare. “I’m just saying! Maybe I could have looked like that if I kept going to the gym.”

“Don’t kid yourself,” She scoffed, as she watched Cullen appear from the en suite bathroom with nothing to cover his chest except a small towel that had been flung over his shoulder, his dog trotting by his feet as he followed him into the room. Lionel was right, he really did have good muscles, muscles which she could have very easily lost herself in if he hadn’t have spoken just then.

“I didn’t have you down as a guy who went to the gym,” Cullen mused as his narrowed eyes scanned the very tall and very skinny man who stood in the doorway wearing a waistcoat and shirt which must have cost her more than she paid in rent. 

“He didn’t,” She rolled her eyes as she shuffled back further beneath the soft covers. “He went to physio because he has old man joints.”

“You know, if you’re going to be rude…” He said, looking down at her with a discerning look which only made her hide beneath the covers even more. “I won’t give you your present.”

“What present?” She asked, throwing a confused look in Cullen’s direction just as an object came sailing across the room where it landed squarely on her head. “Ow!” She cried, her lips forming into a pout as she stared at her brother with narrowed eyes, before her eyes fell on the soft, strangely shaped object that had fallen into her lap with a gentle thud. It was an inanimate creature with large round eyes and even larger pointed ears, ears which had been worn down by the endless rubbing of hands against the soft faux fur. It was a children’s soft toy, specifically, one which was meant to resemble a Fennic, and it had been hers.

Her brother looked smug as he stood watching her with his arms folded and a smile on his face, but Cullen just looked confused, staring down at her with furrowed brows as he asked: “What the hell is that?”

“That was her favourite toy when she was younger,” He told him with a grin, while Cullen made a cooing noise, looking over at her with soft, puppy eyes and a teasing smirk. 

“You’re so embarrassing,” She mumbled, but she couldn’t help but bring the Fennic toy closer to her, her fingers stroking the soft, aged fur almost subconsciously, retracing the paths they had once walked over twenty years ago. “Where did you even get this?”

“I took it with me when I left home,” Lionel shrugged, but any hope that the rest of her questions would be answered fell short when he glanced at his watch and jumped back dramatically. “You’d better hurry up,” He said, throwing a cursory glance over their half dressed forms with a frown. “Claudette will be here soon. In fact, I think I can already hear Marcus moaning about something.”

“ _Please_ say you’re going to be civil,” She sighed, but all that earnt her was a jovial laugh.

“Amy, he’s a miserable git and you know it,” He said to her, before a shrill young voice called from further down the hall.

“Are you talking about Uncle Marcus?” Antony cried, before descending into a fit of giggles.

“Fuck!” Lionel muttered under his breath, before turning to sprint out of the room and down the hall. “No! And Francis, wipe that food off your face!”

Cullen slowly closed the door to the room, shutting out the frantic conversation that was happening further down the hall and leaving them in the peace and quiet of their own company once again. She would have loved to have taken advantage of this, she couldn’t help but imagine the fun they could get up to in such a large, plush room as she watched him move around the room and ather his things, wiping excess shaving cream off of his face with his towel and pulling out the shirt he had hung over the door. She watched him button it bit by bit, his eyes so focused on the tiny buttons that she didn’t think he would ever notice her watching. But of course he did.

“Are you going to do anything this morning or are you just going to watch me get dressed?” He asked, his grin almost hidden from her view as he kept his eyes on his shirt buttons. 

“I don’t know,” She admitted as she continued to watch him dress, her fingers stroking the soft fur of the Fennic toy’s ears as she smiled up at him. “I’m kind of enjoying the view.”

“I appreciate the attention,” He laughed, before reaching down to grab the dress she had brought over from her room and throw it at her from across the room. “But unless you want your sister to see you naked, you might want to get dressed.”

The problem was, she wasn't sure she wanted to see her at all. It wasn’t that she didn't want to catch up with Claudette, she had been looking forward to falling victim to the delighted chatter which always accompanied a visit from her sister. No, it was more that she didn't want to have to deal with Marcus, at all. How could she after everything that had happened at New Year? And worse than that was the prospect that, soon after he arrived, it would be her parents turn to walk through the doors to Easton Hall, which couldn't possibly lead to anything positive. 

She had felt utterly relaxed this morning as she had slept in the plush, king sized bed in Cullen’s room. They had been made to feel welcome in her brother's home, and everyone had been so happy to see her. It was a peaceful place, it was quiet and still, and everything was just that little bit more beautiful than anything she had ever seen in Val Royeaux.

But that peace was about to be shattered, and it happened within about five seconds of Amelie and Cullen’s descent down the towering stone staircase and into the hall below. 

“Oh and here's the man himself,” A slow, dreary voice called from the bottom of the stairs, where Marcus Alessi stood with his fingers riffling through a packet of cigarettes, his dark, beady eyes hidden beneath the brown hair that was always just a little too long at the front. But despite that, he watched them intently, cautiously, his eyes narrow as he studied their forms from head to toe, until his eyes fell on the dog at his heel. “Wow! Now _that’s_ a dog! Where did you get yourself a Ferelden mabari, if you don't mind me asking?”

“He was a rescue,” Cullen told him, patting Leo on the head with a firm hand. “You must be Marcus?”

“I am indeed,” He said, turning to Amelie only briefly as he moved to place a cigarette in his mouth. “Good morning, Amelie.”

“Good morning,” She said with a polite smile, although her attention was on the door behind him as she heard Claudette scurrying through the door. 

“Thank the Maker,” Marcus sighed, turning to Cullen with a roll of his eyes before moving to address Claudette. “Are you done yet?”

“Yes, all done!” She said cheerfully as she swam into the hall with a tall, skinny dog on a pink lead at her heel while she balanced a large collection of bags on her other arm. 

“Good,” He said quickly, turning to Cullen with the cigarettes in hand. “Do you smoke?”

“No, I gave up,” He told him to Amelie’s surprise, causing her to turn to him with her face frowning in confusion. But his eyes were fixed ahead, staring down into Marcus’ face with an intensity she had never seen before. Maybe he was scared than he let on, guarding himself against the unknown by putting up his shield like any good former Templar would do. 

“Fair enough,” Marcus quickly turned to leave, waltzing past Claudette as she struggled to place the large bags on the floor with the dog in her other hand. With Marcus gone, they both crossed the room towards her, just as Lionel appeared from the living room their left. 

“Is he gone?” He asked, poking his head around the door before stepping out with a glass of what looked like whiskey in his hand.

“Do you need a hand, Claudette?” Cullen asked, earning a smile from Claudette as he took the burden from her.

“Oh thank you so much!” She cried, turning to the three of them with a beaming smile. “Amelie you look so lovely! And Lionel, I am in _love_ with that outfit it is just _fantastic!_ ” As she spoke, Leo slunked past Cullen’s legs to approach Claudette’s skinny dog who looked like it had been dipped in a vat of black and brown paint and then covered in a pink coat. “Oh! You haven't met Sammy yet have you? Isn't she lovely?” 

“She _is_ lovely,” Cullen said with a laugh as he knelt down in front of her and received a cautious lick on his nose.

“I am sorry, she did do a tiny poo on your plants by the door,” She admitted as she turned to her brother with an apologetic look.

“Doesn't bother me, we throw horse shit on there anyway,” He shrugged as he took a sip of his drink.

“Are you really drinking that at eleven in the morning?” Amelie asked him as she eyed up the strong smelling brown liquid in his glass.

“Time is a construct, Amy,” He told her, before leaning down to stroke the top of Sammy’s boney head with an outstretched finger.

“Oh and here are my favourite nephews!” Claudette cried as the two boys ran down the stone hall with eager squeals. “Are they taking their presents back with them to open them? I have quite a few of them.” She indicated to the bags that Cullen had placed against the wall in a pile that was taller than Sammy and broader than Leo.

“Maker, Claudette, he’s seven,” Lionel sighed as his eyes scanned the pile of bags, while the boys, and Antony in particular, shrieked in delight. 

“Oh I know but I saw them all and they were just so cute,” She admitted, her cheeks reddening ever so slightly as she threw them a sly smile. “There's some for Francis too because, well, I just had to!”

“Claudette!” A shrill voice, one which had just the slightest undertones of an Orlesian accent that should have died years ago, cried from the doorway as Amelie’s mother stepped across the threshold. “It will never cease to amaze me how you made such a fantastic match. Your husband is just the most delightful man! Isn’t he?”

“Yes, Mummy,” She answered as their mother waltzed into the house with her glamorous blue dress swaying as she walked, her red hair, which had been ironed as flat as it possibly could be, flung over her shoulder as she turned to look at Amelie and Cullen with piercing green eyes. Behind her, Claudette pursed her lips as she looked wistfully towards the wide open door, where their father was deep in conversation with Marcus on the front step.

“Oh look, Ferdinand!” Her mother declared, prompting Amelie’s father to saunter through the door with his hands thrust into the pockets of his suit, his beady hazel eyes scanning the room in front of him beneath thick, furrowed brows. “They made it!”

“I can see that, Corrine,” He said stiffly as he approached the pair of them with a slow, and slightly menacing, gait. “If he hadn’t then, and he'd decided to slack off and leave my daughter in ruins again well, then there might have been an issue between the two of us.”

Everyone was silent for the longest of seconds, their eyes fixed on Cullen’s face as he stood almost level with the eyes of her father. His face was blank, unreadable, one which she had seen on the face of many a Templar. She could see a single bead of sweat which had formed on his brow, she could hear his deliberate breaths as he fought to keep himself composed, and she noticed the clenching of his jaw as he stood, completely still, completely silent. And then he spoke, carefully, slowly, deliberately.

“With all due respect, sir,” He began, his eyes looking directly forward as they remained unfazed. “I'm sure your daughter can look after herself.”

Her jaw dropped, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Claudettes hand clasp over her mouth and she saw Lionel fight to suppress a laugh. At his side, Antony mirrored him, while Francis looked at everyone’s face looking mildly confused. Her mother looked at her father warily, her eyes the very definition of fear, like those of a startled deer staring at the one who dared enter its domain. But to everyone’s surprise, her father’s lips broke out in a smile. It was a small smile, more like a smirk really, but it was a smile nonetheless, and Amelie could finally relax and release the breath she had been holding this whole time.

“Fair enough, you’re probably right,” He shrugged, turning away to address Lionel as he fought to hide a smile behind his hand. “Lionel I think we could all do with a cup of tea if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Oh yes, I am _gasping_ ,” Her mother said, turning to address Lionel as he stood next to his sons with one arm in his trouser pocket and the other holding a now empty glass. “And in the name of the blessed Andraste, there had better not be any alcohol in it! I know what you’re like!”

“As if I would do that when we’re celebrating my son’s birthday,” He rolled his eyes, at them as he shuffled ever so slightly on the spot, hsi feet scuffing at the stone floor as he fought to hide what looked to her like an exasperated laugh. “I’ll find Aggie and get her to sort it out for you.”

“Lovely!” Her mother said with a painted smile, turning to the door to the nearest living room, or possibly what someone like her mother would call a ‘drawing room’. “If you find Marcus, tell him where we are.”

She marched ahead, and all they could do was follow in a somewhat uncomfortable fashion, although thankfully, any silence was broken by an animate conversation between Claudette and their father. But Amelie and Cullen hardly spoke, she didn’t know what to say to him, really, all she did was reach across and give his hand a gentle, but encouraging, squeeze.

“Amelie come and sit next to me,” Her mother called to her as she sat on one of the plush sofas arranged around the fire with her back perfectly straight and her hands folded on her lap. Slowly, Amelie sat down, wondering how long it had been since she had sat this close to her mother, while she watched Cullen opt rather sensibly to sit on one of the armchairs with his dog lying at his feet, where Antony and Francis were sat petting him enthusiastically.

“Now, I loved your dress at the ball, it was so so beautiful!” She told her, throwing her a quick smile before launching into her set piece. “But the problem I had with it was that it covered your better assets,” She gestured to her own chest with her hands splayed out in front of her, while Amelie looked past her and caught a concerned look from Cullen. “While it also failed to cover the less good ones.” Her finger waved over the tops of her arms, causing Amelie to shrink back and place wary hands on her upper arms. “And the thing is, on your wedding day, you will need a perfectly fitting dress otherwise you will look back on it with regret.”

“Sorry...” She interjected, looking over at Cullen who appeared to share her alarm, his cheeks turning crimson as he stared at her with frightened wide eyes. “Why are you talking to me about wedding dresses?”

“Well you can’t expect me to believe that you would _finally_ find someone to introduce us to and not marry him, I mean…” Her mother looked as her as if she were a child struggling with a basic maths problem. “What else are you going to do, keep sleeping around until you get old?”

“I don’t sleep around!” She cried, folding her arms defensively across her chest as she looked at her mother with scorn. Any hope of having a peaceful chat with her mother had completely vanished, and now all she could do was stand her ground and pay for an escape. “And even if I did, what’s the issue? This isn’t the Towers Age.”

“The issue is, Amelie,” Her mother sighed, leaning forward to stare at Amelie with eyes that were so similar to her own. “People will start to think you’re a...you know…”

“A what?” She asked briskly, matching her intense gaze as she dared her to speak the words that Amelie knew were at the forefront of her mind. But they were interrupted by a short, sharp word from her father from across the room, who watched them with intently with his beady hazel eyes. 

“Corrine, what she does is none of our business,” He said firmly, causing Amelie to breathe a sigh of relief as her mother back away. “It’s not like she’s our heir anymore. She can do what she likes.”

His words had gotten her out of the hole she was being dug into, but they did so only by forcing a knife through her chest and into her heart. She was winded, her breath escaping her as she sat watching her father with unfocused eyes that had fallen victim to the oncoming storm that left her mind awash in a dense fog. She was lost in an open sea that stretched out for hundreds of miles around her, and she was only somewhat aware that a conversation was happening around her as people vacated their chairs and made their way to the door. 

“Amelie?” Cullen asked, cutting through her clouded thought as he stood above her with his dog standing loyally at his side. “I was going to take him out for a walk with Claudette, did you want to come?”

“Yes,” She said quickly, launching herself off of the sofa and hurrying to join Cullen, who made his way to the door with her hand in his while Claudette and the two boys followed, chatting away about what she thought was a discussion on different types of coats you could buy for a dog. But even as she stepped out into the cool hallway, leaving the stuffy, overbearing room behind her, she found it no easier to concentrate. The world seemed to continue around her, while she stood still amongst the chaos.

“Cullen,” She called out to him through the mists, but in reality, her voice was nothing more than a whisper. He turned to her with a smile, but his eyes were narrowed, his brows knotted as he looked at her with unbridled concern. “I need to go to the bathroom, I’ll join you in a second.”

“Ok,” He smiled down at her, giving her hand a quick, reassuring squeeze before letting her go. She turned and walked past them all in a flurry of movement, marching down the long hall to the nearest bathroom, which she all but bolted into with the door slamming firmly shut behind her. 

The bathroom was much bigger than a downstairs bathroom needed to be, let alone a _second_ downstairs bathroom. But it was cool, it was silent, and it was empty; the only hint that a person had been in here was the scattering of her brother’s old magazines and newspapers, the ones he so lovingly collected that all featured him in them somewhere. But ignoring the somewhat battered copy of this Satinalia’s perfume advert, she turned to the mirror in front of her instead.

She could see the imperfections her mother had picked out, the fat on her arms and stomach that had plagued her since puberty. But her words didn’t bother her so much anymore. She had heard them so many times now that they had almost lost their meaning, and she had looked into a mirror enough times to begin to get used to the fact that her reflection was her own, and there was little she could do to change that.

Her comments on marriage didn’t bother her so much either. No, it was sudden and unnecessary, but it wasn’t a thought that horrified her, being with Cullen long enough to consider marrying him. She cared about him so much, his company relaxed her, made her laugh, smile. She loved him, really. Maker, _she loved him_.

But it was her father’s words which had struck her down, and any smile that had been conjured at her love of Cullen quickly vanished. She thought that the freedom he had given her was a mark of respect, a gift given to the daughter who had spent so much of her life imprisoned that she had earnt a chance of freedom. But, no, it wasn’t. She was allowed to be free because she was of no use to him. She wasn’t an heir, her children would be nothing, no lands would become hers. 

She was useless. 

But she wasn’t useless to Cullen. No, he cared for her, she knew it, and he gave her far more love than her parents ever could. 

She stormed out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind her, and marched down the hall towards the open doors, where sunlight streamed in and made the old stonework glow a glorious shade of dazzling white. But as she passed the door to one of the many sitting rooms, she came head first with Marcus.

“Sorry,” She mumbled quickly, stepping aside as she let her brother-in-law pass, earning herself a reproachful glare. She sighed as she stood in the doorway he had come from, turning to look into the smaller, but equally well decorated, living room. Her brother stood in the window, his red hair turned to a strawberry blonde as the sun shone down upon his tall frame. He appeared to be watching something, and the occasional shriek of a child told her that Cullen and Claudette had taken them outside to play with the dogs.

“Lionel?” She asked carefully, watching him as he pulled away from whatever thoughts plagued his mind and turned to address her concerns. “Everything ok?”

He didn’t answer for a second, instead choosing to watch her as if he hadn’t even heard her, as if she wasn’t even there. Then, she caught him as he flashed her a smile and threw back the remainder of whatever was in his glass. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

His words were strained, and his glass slammed down on the table just a little bit too harshly, and that’s when she knew that everything was about as fine for him as it was for her. That is, not at all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow sorry this is so long! I even cut bits out too that just wouldn't fit in. But then this was such a busy chapter, there were so many people that I kept getting lost! 
> 
> I may have to revist this one, there was just so much to proofread that I couldn't really focus on proofreading. But I am looking at getting a side story out tomorrow or sunday, so I will check back then!


	28. Secrets of the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long day spent with her family, it is time for the Trevelyan's to retire to their beds. But Amelie and Cullen have other plans, and apparently, they aren't the only ones.

She was at the tail end of a long, exhausting road, and the plush, four poster bed that sat proudly in the centre of her room had never been so inviting. She sunk on to the soft mattress, heavy from the extra weight she was carrying after eating Maker knows how many courses of food, and exhausted from the non stop conversation that had taken place since her mother had arrived this morning. With a sigh, she threw the pile of wedding magazines her mother had sprung out of nowhere onto the old, creaking wooden floor, and she collapsed against the soft pillows.

But she couldn’t go to sleep yet. 

She fought to keep herself awake for another hour with eyes that were as dry as a desert while she stared at her phone in desperation, trying to find something, anything, that could keep her mind busy for the next hour as time ticked away slowly, steadily, the numbers in the corner of her screen ticking by as time went on. And then, as the time drew nearer to midnight, her fatigue, her boredom, her desire to curl up beneath the thick sheets and descend into a peaceful, dreamless sleep, became replaced with something else.

She was alert, she was excited, and she wanted nothing more than to tip-toe down the corridor to a room where she knew that, somewhere, someone was waiting for her.

But it wasn’t time just yet, although it would be soon.

She pulled herself out of bed and away from the lure of the soft pillows and thick sheets, bringing herself back to life with a brisk stroll around the dark room, where a gentle chill had crept in through the tiny gap she had left open in the window. But it was a welcome chill, although as she peeled off the floral dress she had been wearing and replaced her underwear with ones that were much more lacey and far less practical the cold began to bite at her skin, leaving her hairs to stand on end as she fought to keep out the chill with the thick robe her brother had left in all their rooms. 

It didn’t do much, she was still exposed to the bitter chill and her muscles still shook from the encroaching cold. But it wouldn’t be long, and there would be someone to keep her warm, to fight the cold and keep it at bay.

It was midnight when she opened the door to her room and crept into the hall, her bare feet carrying her down the hall with soft, gentle thuds against the worn carpet. Everything was quiet, a sensation that was so far removed from the thunderous noise of endless, tedious conversation that it was almost a shock to her. But it was welcome, and it was necessary.

If anyone caught her, she would be in for it.

She came to her destination soon enough, and marked her victory with a gentle tap of her fist against the old, oak door. It was just the one knock, and hardly even that, but it got her her answer quicker than she anticipated. And soon, Cullen was stood in front of her, wrapped in a robe that was identical to her own, looking down at her in awe with his mouth agape and his golden brown eyes fixated on her half dressed form.

“Cullen?” She asked in hushed tones, stifling a laugh as she watched him try and gather his thoughts in spite of the glaring distraction in front of him. “Aren’t you going to let me in, it’s a bit cold out here and this robe isn’t helping.”

“Are you not…?” His words were jilted, awkward, muttered between stilted breaths and endearing stammers. “Are you not wearing anything under that?”

“Not really no,” She sighed, throwing a cautious look behind her as she shuffled into the doorway so that she was stood in the cramped space next to him. With another quick glance, she undid the robe ever so slightly, and all she saw were his eyes widen even further as he stared down at her.

“Maker,” He whispered, his eyes growing even wider as he all but shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve never seen you wear anything like that before.”

“Well, they’re new,” She admitted, biting her lip as she fought to suppress a giggle. “I got them the other day, I thought you’d like them.” 

“I do, I love them,” He told her, his hand slowly coming up to brush away the robe which hung over her left breast. “But in all honesty, I don’t think they’re going to be staying on too long.”

“No?” She asked, throwing him a teasing smile as she moved to close the small gap that existed between them, planting her left hand upon his chest as she watched him lower his lips to hers. But as his lips came to close upon hers, the soft, scarred skin moving to press against her own, she heard the distinct sound of someone marching down the hall towards them. 

She shot into the room behind Cullen, pulling the robe over her half naked body in desperation as she looked at Cullen with horror. “Who is it?” She whispered frantically, as his gaze shot between her and the dark corridor, all while he awkwardly tightened the robe.

“I’m not sure,” He said, his head peering out into the corridor while the footsteps grew steadily louder. She wasn’t sure, but they sounded too soft to be her father, but far too clumsy and unsteady to be her mother or sister. “Wait, I think it’s your brother.”

“What?” She asked, throwing him a confused glare as she marched towards the door with the robe secured tightly around her. She peered out of the door next to him, squinting down the dark hallway until, sure enough, her brother’s lanky frame came into focus. “Oi! What are you doing? I thought you went to bed?”

“Hey! What’s my little sister doing up at this time of night?” He asked her with a raspy voice that she presumed was meant to be a whisper as he sauntered over to them, his eyes falling on her as her robe began to slip off of her shoulder, and then roaming to Cullen, who stood awkwardly behind her looking like he would rather be anywhere else than half naked in front of her nosy brother. “Oh wow, I know _exactly_ what you’re doing. You cheeky f-”

“Shut up!” She cried, earning her a laugh which was tinted by the smell of aged alcohol. “Are you drunk?”

He thought about it for a second, his eyes wandering over to the oppressive veil of darkness that surrounded them, before falling back on them accompanied by a delicate giggle. “Yes, I am.”

“I thought you went up with Francis hours ago!” She cried, trying desperately hard to keep her tone low as she became suddenly aware of every creak and every bustle of noise that sounded in the ancient hall. “Don’t tell me you were drinking in his room that’s awful!”

“What? No,” He scoffed, looking down at her as if she had completely lost her mind. “I stayed with him until he was properly asleep because otherwise he freaks out. But when I came back down all I could hear was mother talking about weddings and, I mean…” He paused to look at them both with a childish grin, his eyes lighting up as they shrunk away from his gaze and pulled the robes tighter around their bodies. “I love you both, you’re great. But I’m not exaggerating when I say that my wedding day was _the_ worst day of my life. But, that being said...Easton Hall _is_ licensed for weddings...”

“Shut up! We're not getting married,” She cried again, prodding him with an outstretched finger as she felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her as a pool of red gathered in her cheeks. But before he could embarrass her even more, there were more noises down the hall, footsteps that were so soft they could barely make them out above the giggling that was coming from her brother. “Who’s that?”

They all fell into silence as they shuffled into the doorway of Cullen’s room as the steps drew nearer, their heads poking out from behind the doorframe as they squinted down the dark hall. A small shape was moving towards them, one which hurried along the hallway accompanied by a floating white nightdress and a cascade of dark brown hair that looked almost black against the darkness of the night.

“Claudette?” Amelie asked, whispering into the darkness at the figure as she turned to descend the long staircase into the entrance hall below. She stopped with her hand on the banister and a slippered foot hovering in the air, her eyes fixated on the darkness in front of her as they called out to her.

“Cee-Cee,” Lionel called in a sing song voice as he shuffled out from behind the doorframe. “Now i would have expected to have seen Amy sneaking around my house at midnight but _you_? I mean, I am shocked, I really am.”

“Shhh!” She hurried over to them on her tiptoes, her footsteps as quiet as those of a Chantry mouse as she came to them with her hair in a tangle and her nightdress covering her in a skewed fashion, as if she had been in some sort of panicked rush to dress herself. “I’m not sneaking around.”

“Then what _are_ you doing?” He asked, crossing his arms as he towered over her with an interrogating glare. 

“I was…” She looked up at him, then at Amelie, then at Cullen, with wide hazel eyes that appeared to shine in the dim light of what appeared to be her phone screen planted firmly in her hand. “I wasn’t feeling very well. So I thought I’d get some air in the garden and maybe come up with some ideas for my article.”

“What article?” Amelie asked her, but beside her Cullen gave a knowing nod of approval.

“For Andraste’s Grace?” He asked her with a sincerity she never expected, earning him a confused glare that he only briefly acknowledged.

“Oh, you read this month’s issue then?” She appeared to glow with delight, her smile spreading across her cheeks as she basked in the warmth of admiration. 

“We found it in a shop and left it on Rylen’s desk as a joke,” Cullen leant over and whispered in Amelie’s ear, keeping his words out of ear shot of her sister while she continued to be interrogated by Lionel.

“So why haven’t you brought anything to write with?” He asked her, his eyes flickering over her hands which were all but empty except for the phone that she clutched in her fingers, a clutch which only grew tighter under his scrutiny as she brought it towards her. “Are you lying to me Cee-Cee?”

“No!” She insisted, folding her arms across her chest as her lips formed a determined pout. But then her shoulders slumped, and an audible sigh passed her lips as she turned her gaze away from their interrogating stares. “Alright, fine. I’m meant to be making a phone call.”

“At midnight?” Lionel scoffed, but beside her, Cullen stuck out his elbow and nudged her on the arm. She turned to him with a frown, but all she got back was a wide eyed look and lips that were mouthing a word. No, a name. She looked back at Claudette, who stood with her phone in her hand as it were a prized possession, clasping it with delicate fingers as she brought it to her chest.

That was when it hit her.

“Claudette?” She asked, trying to keep her voice at a whisper. “Were you going to phone Rylen?”

“No! Claudette?” Her brother gasped, staring down into her eye with fervour as she squirmed away from his gaze. “You told me you were never going to talk to him again.” She didn’t answer, all she did was look at the floor beneath her feet. So his attention turned to her, his hazel eyes bright and beady against the darkness of the hall. “Do you know this guy? Who is he?”

“The one from New Year, don’t you remember?” Amelie told him, but all she got in return was more confusion.

“Amy, I don’t remember _anything_ about New Year. Except in your guest room when I got given a pretty amazing-”

“We don’t want to know!” Amelie interrupted him as the three of them pulled faces of disgust in unison. “Cullen, do you have a picture of him?”

“I do actually, hang on,” Cullen disappeared into his room, leaving the three of them alone in his doorway.

“You are _so_ embarrassing!” Claudette rounded on Lionel as soon as Cullen was out of sight, her meek demeanour being replaced by that of a smouldering tempest. “It doesn’t concern you who he is or what he looks like! Who are you to judge who I spend my time with?”

“Well I will have you know, little sister,” He whispered in a slightly sloppy tone, grinning down at her as he prodded her arm with an outstretched finger. “That I am somewhat of an expert on doing naughty things _and_ I am a very good judge of character _and_ I have very good tastes in men.” He turned to Amelie then, placing an outstretched arm gently upon her shoulder as he spoke to Claudette once again. “And that is why I am so fond of Cullen _especially_ after seeing him tonight in that very flattering robe.”

With that, Cullen came through the door with his phone in hand sporting a picture of what appeared the two of them in uniform, which her brother squinted at with keen interest before descending into a fit of giggles.

“Maker, Claudette…” He whispered with a rasping voice while he fought to keep his fit of giggles under control. “I had no idea that _that_ was your type. I mean, tattoos...”

“Oh shut up!” She said, hitting him gently with the back of her hand while Amelie noticed a tide of red flush towards her cheeks. 

“I mean, he’s not ugly…” He said quickly, as they both noted the downturn in her lips as she stared down at the floor once again. “He’s just not my type. I prefer a prettier, less tattoed, face, that’s all. But whatever, it’s a step up from what you’ve got now.”

“Nothing’s going to happen, anyway,” She said with a sigh, staring down at the phone in her hand while she bit her lip furiously. “It’s just...I’m just being silly.”

“If it helps…” Cullen interjected to Amelie’s surprise, his voice quiet but reassuring as he spoke in gentle tones. “He’s been really caught up on you ever since First Day. He doesn’t shut up about it. We take the piss out of him but...it’s kind of sweet?”

“Really?” She looked up again with her eyes wide with hope, her mouth breaking into a smile as she stared up into Cullen’s face. “Does he talk about me?”

“All the time,” His words earned a faint squeal from Claudette as she clutched the phone closer to her chest. 

“Oh, I should phone him,” She sighed, her smile widening into a grin as her cheeks flushed with red once again. “He will be wondering where I am. I’ll see you all in the morning?”

“Yep, have fun,” Her brother said with the faintest of smiles as she threw them one last grin before practically sprinting down the stairs with her slippered feet tapping gently against the old carpet. 

“I mean...if it makes her happy…” Amelie said wistfully as they stared into the darkness of the empty hall where Claudette had once stood. “It can’t be that bad, can it?”

“I don’t know, it never made me happy,” Lionel shrugged as he turned his attention away from the empty hall, his hand reaching into his pocket to retrieve his phone as a quick buzz sounded into the silence of the night. In the pale blue light of the screen, all she could see was his face, dazzled by artificial light as a grin spread across his face. “Well, I need to go. Lovely talk, though.”

“Um, ok?” She said, turning to Cullen as her brother backed away down the hall to his room, flashing them a quick smile before retreating into the darkness and out of sight.

This whole night had been...bizarre. And now she was even more tired than before, the silence of the night calling to her like an old friend with promises of a blissful sleep and gentle dreams. 

“Ok, well, I don’t know about you,” Cullen said, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close to him, so close, that his next words were spoken into her hair, muffled by the tangle of red as she felt his nose brush against her scalp. “But I am exhausted.”

“I am too,” She sighed into the thick fabric of his robe, her eyes closing as she leant her head into his chest. 

“But I do really like that underwear,” Cullen told her as she felt him chuckle into her hair, sending a shiver through his body that brought her even closer into his hold. “I might just have to enjoy it a bit less enthusiastically than planned.”

“That’s absolutely fine,” She assured him, pulling herself out of his hold so that she could look up into his eyes once again, allowing him to bring himself closer and closer to her until his lips were once again only a hair breadth away from her own. 

But this time, they closed that gap, and there was no one there to interrupt them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels nice to upload on a Wednesday again! But I have no idea when the next one will be, it's a long heavy chapter anyway and my course starts on Monday so we will see!


	29. His Master's Vice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the final day of Cullen and Amelie's stay at Easton Hall, and her family are getting ready to move on with their lives. But it's been a long weekend for everyone, and some members of the family aren't feeling quite so energised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So two things!
> 
> 1\. This chapter and the next we're originally intended to be one chapter but the word count got way too long. So consider this a part 1 and chapter 30 a part 2 of the same story. Hence why this doesn't seem to have a resolution to it, more like a cliffhanger. It will come back around in the next chapter, and because of that, I will try and get on it asap so there isn't too long of a wait.
> 
> 2\. These two chapters deal with some heavy themes surrounding mental illness and depression, as well as characters talking about past events which were negative/traumatic to some degree (although I will be keeping it mostly vague because I see no need to go into explicit detail). Please look after yourselves, if you would prefer not to read, then that is ok. It was hard enough for me to write this and I've been preparing for this for months, so I can understand completely if you need to take a break. It will mostly be in 30, but there will be some mentions of it here too.
> 
> Anyway, apart from that, please enjoy! Hopefully, the next chapter won't be too far away!

It had been disheartening to leave Cullen’s room once the night’s adventures were over and everyone had crept back to their rooms. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had woken up to an empty bed, Cullen’s presence, either while she stayed at his house or he crashed at hers, had become a normality for her. So the thought of her crawling out of the Fade once the sun had risen and the birds had begun to sing to see an empty pillow beside her was an upsetting one.

Except, when she did wake on that Sunday morning, he was there, smiling down at her as if his very presence wasn’t completely unexpected, as if it were as normal as it always had been.

“Cullen?” She asked, her voice a barely audible croak as her eyes opened to fall upon Cullen’s smiling face, which only sat inches from hers as he sat on the bed next to her.

“Good morning,” He whispered softly as she felt his fingers begin to stroke at the tangle of hair beneath her ear. “Sorry to wake you, but everyone else is already up. Well, except your brother.”

“Really?” She squinted her eyes against the blinding light of the sun as she sat herself upright, bringing herself next to Cullen as she leant her weary head against his shoulder. “Did I sleep in too late? What time is it?”

“No, it’s fine,” She felt his shoulder shrug as he pulled his arm out from beneath her and wrapped it around her shoulders. “I was just up because I went dog walking with your sister. Then your father wanted to ask your brother something so I said I would come up with the kids and check on you both.”

“Oh, well, thank the Maker you didn’t bring _them_ in here to wake me up,” She said with a laugh as she shuffled within his arms so that she could look up into his warm, smiling face. “You’re a much nicer sight to wake up to.”

“That’s very kind of you,” He smiled down at her as he leant forward to plant a gentle, but lingering kiss upon her her lips. If only they had more time, if only they were in her home, safe from the prying eyes of her family who never seemed to stop interrupting. Then perhaps he could have stayed longer, perhaps she could have stayed in his arms until the sleepy morning turned to a lazy afternoon. But instead, his arms fell from her side as he pulled away from her and spoke with a heavy sigh, “Come on, sleepyhead, get dressed! We have a flight to catch.”

“Oh, fine,” She grumbled, frowning up at Cullen as he heaved himself off of the bed and crossed the room to find the pile of clothes she had discarded yesterday, which he launched at her with some force followed by the toy her brother had given her the previous morning. “Careful, you’ll hurt him!” She cried, earning her a laugh from Cullen as she placed the toy carefully beside her pillows before turning to her clothes, where it sat staring at them both with its tarnished, beady eyes.

In truth, it was ugly. It was a well battered, well worn, toy that hadn’t been used for over 20 years, and what once resembled a Fennic now resembled something more akin to a sewer rat. But it was still soft, and it almost had that same smell it had always had, the smell of musty, old fabric that was the smell of her childhood, the one that she used to sniff off of the soft fur as she brought the toy up to her face, mixed in with the smell that lingered on her brother’s furnishings, which was a comfort in itself to her.

And as she got herself dressed, and Cullen continued to tease her over it, she couldn’t help but be glad that it had come back into her possession once again. 

While it may be common for people to hold onto their old toys and cherish them while thinking of all those beautiful days they had had in their childhoods, she had nothing left, the Templars had told her to leave everything behind, and anything she had held on to through sheer determination was taken from her as soon she the doors to the Circle had slammed shut behind her. 

Cullen could tease her all she liked, and she would laugh, because he could always make her laugh, but he would probably never realise just how much that small act had meant to her.

How could she repay her brother for the kindness he had shown her?

When she left her room, the distant sound of a quiet conversation, broken only by the occasional high pitched shriek of a small child, drew her attention to the room at the end of the hall. The door to her brother’s room was open, and as she approached, three people with almost identical red hair and hazel eyes stared up at them from the bed. 

“Good morning!” Two high pitched voices called to them as they approached the doorway, where Amelie leant her weary body against the old wooden door frame as she watched them with her eyes still raw from the throes of sleep. But she felt no where near as bad as her brother looked. Lionel sat in the middle of his bed wearing yesterday’s clothes while his red hair stood on end, giving him the appearance of someone who had been dragged through a hedgerow by their ankles. His eyes were weary as they stared into the light from the hallway, while his hand rested lazily on Francis’ head, his fingers stroking the strands of copper red hair with slow, delicate movements as he sat between his legs playing with a stuffed toy. 

“Maker, you look awful,” She told him, earning herself a stern, reproachful glare as he sat defiantly upon the large, four poster bed.

“Thanks that’s so kind of you,” He rolled his eyes at her while the boys giggled obnoxiously next to him. “Why is everyone up so early, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” She shrugged, indicating to Cullen who moved to stand next to her in the now crowded doorway. “Ask him, he woke me up too.”

“Your father wanted to know if you wanted to go hunting with them,” He told him as he narrowly avoided stepping onto what looked like an old, discarded food packet. 

“Eurgh, no,” He scrunched his face up in disgust as he stared up at the pair of them in disdain before releasing a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping forward as he ran his free hand over his tired eyes. “Did he really get you to wake me up for that? Does he not realise I hate going with them?”

“I thought you liked going with them?” Amelie asked him, folding her arms as she inched further into the dark room which, now that she was further in, she realised had a strange, stale smell to it. “Maker it’s messy in here.” She muttered to herself as her toe brushed against something hard and round that had been left on the floor.

It was Antony who answered her, who was lying on the end of the bed with his head resting in his hands as if the whole thing was tedious for him, but then it probably was. “That’s because Mummy isn’t here to tell him to tidy his room.”

“Yes, thank you,” Lionel retorted, throwing an exasperated glare at Amelie and Cullen as he rolled his eyes at them. “ _Anyway_. No, I do not like going with and I only went because I had nothing else in common with Father and it made him feel like we had a relationship. But all parental issues aside, I can’t even shoot anymore so what’s the point? He just makes me hold his stuff for him.”

“Why can’t you shoot anymore?” Cullen asked as he stood with his arms folded beside her.

“Fell off my horse a few years ago and my whole shoulder just went-” His hand let go of Francis’ hair to reenact the moment his shoulder dislocated, causing everyone else in the room to exhibit groans of disgust, which only made him laugh. “But anyway, enough about my failed equestrian career, I’m going back to sleep. I’ll be down in about half an hour.”

“Is that a good idea?” Amelie asked him, earning another reproachful look from her brother as he continued to lean back dramatically against the pillows with Francis tucked beneath his arm. “I’m just saying, isn’t Jennifer meant to be coming over?”

“Maker, Amy, stop being so uptight,” He grumbled as he gestured for Antony to join the two of them as they lay defiantly against the soft bed covers. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be up. I just want a nap and a cuddle first, ok?”

“I’m just saying-”

“Amy,” Cullen interrupted, pulling her out of the doorway and back into the blinding light of the hall. “Come on, you said you’d take me around the gardens before we left. Why don’t we do that now?”

“What? No I didn’t...” She looked up at him with furrowed brows, but all she got in return was a determined stare. “I mean, if you want to…”

“Yeah, I think it would be nice,” He smiled down at her, but it was the ghost of a smile, a quick flicker of his scarred lips before he took her hand and turned his gaze to the hallway ahead, their steps echoing around the empty hall as they marched along the old, worn carpet and down the stairs to the hall below. Noise and chatter filled the air as they descended down the old stone staircase, growing ever louder as they traversed the empty rooms and wound their way into the dining room, where all of her family were sat talking over the remains of their breakfast.

“Oh look, she’s awake!” Her mother called as she placed her cup of tea carefully down upon the polished wooden table. “Are you joining us for breakfast?”

Next to her, Claudette smiled up at her in earnest, gesturing to the empty chair beside her which she patted with a delicate hand. “Come and sit next to me, Amelie!” 

“Oh, I wasn’t going to have breakfast, actually,” She said, causing Claudette’s smile to turn to a frown as her shoulders slumped in disappointment. “We were just going to go outside.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Her mother mused as she gave Amelie the once over with her vicious green eyes before returning her gaze to her cup of tea.

“Claudette, have you seen Leo?” Cullen asked her, causing her smile to return once again as she turned to beam at him.

“You mean, dog Leo?” She asked, before whirling around to reach her head below the table, where she called out into the apparent darkness with a sing-song voice. “Look who it is! He’s come back for you!”

As she shot back up again, a large round face with pointed ears poked out from under the table, his beady eyes falling straight onto Cullen before his large, rotund body broke out into a run, colliding into Cullen’s arms as he brought him in for a hug.

“I was only gone for ten minutes,” He laughed as his face was covered in large, sloppy licks. “Didn’t you have your new friend Sammy to play with?”

“Oh, no, she’s asleep,” Claudette told him with a proud smile, although behind her, Amelie saw Marcus’ mouth twitch at the mention of Sammy’s name. “She’s stolen Leo, human Leo’s, armchair. Hope he doesn’t mind...”

“How can he complain when he can’t be bothered to get out of bed?” Their mother laughed as she placed her cup of tea back down onto the table. “Anyway, he’d better get up soon, your father wants to be gone.”

“Well did he say he wanted to come with us?” Her father’s eyes rose from the paper in his hand and fell onto Cullen, his expression unmoving as he watched him with a stern intensity.

“No, he said he wouldn’t have time,” It amazed Amelie how quickly he could spin a lie out of the bizarre flurry of information they had been given by her brother, but she was relieved. She did not want to be the one to tell their father that every hunting trip had been secretly despised. 

“Oh well,” He turned from Cullen and rolled up his paper with a heavy sigh as he rose from his seat, joined by a Marcus who seemed far too keen to be vacating the dining room. “Just the two of us, then.” Marcus smiled over at him with that sickly, sly smile of his. But it wasn’t returned, instead, her father turned to Cullen once again with his eyebrows raised. “Unless you fancied coming along?” 

“No thanks, I don’t shoot for sport,” Cullen said quickly as he rose to his feet. “And we were going to go for a walk anyway, weren’t we, Amelie?”

“Oh, yes,” She said as his golden brown eyes caught hold of her own. “Did you want to go now?”

“Yeah, I’ll take Leo out for a walk,” He said, taking her hand in his as he lead her towards the door with a somewhat determined gait.

“Cullen?” She called to him as they left the noise of the dining room behind them, crossing the threshold into the cold, stone lined hallway. “Is everything ok? Why are you so jumpy?”

“I’m fine, sorry,” He stopped in his tracks, causing Amelie to walk into his arm and almost trip over his now stationary feet. “Which way do we go for the gardens?”

“This way,” She sighed, rolling her eyes as she dragged him along the hallway by his hand, leading him below the towering stairway and through the bowels of her brother’s home, stopping only once they had traversed countless rooms filled with sofas and bookcases and large, empty fireplaces and finally reached the final room in the house, a small room with just a few armchairs and one towering bookcase, but one which was made to feel so much bigger from the large, wooden framed doors made almost entirely of glass that faced out onto the gardens.

“Wow!” Cullen’s words were little more than a sigh as they came to a stop in front of the crystal clear glass, his eyes scanning the busy scene in front of him, a scene filled with towering trees which had been made bare from the cold bite of winter and shrubbery which had shivered beneath a dusting of snow these past few months. It wasn’t at its most pleasing, not at this time of year, but it was still a sight to behold. And she knew that in a few months time, when the trees filled with leaves once again and the flowers began to bloom in every colour imaginable, it would be beautiful.

“Did you want to go and have a walk?” She asked him, reaching her hand out towards the small, white handle on the old, creaky door. But Cullen stopped her, his hand reaching out to cover hers as he brought it back towards him, grasping at her fingers with care as he enclosed her hand in his. “Cullen, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” He cried, shaking his head at her as he flashed her a quick, slanted smile. “Well, not as such. I just wanted to suggest staying here again tonight.”

“Cullen…” She sighed, her gaze dropping from his as she slipped her fingers away from his, turning her body to stare out of the glass doors and onto the gardens which stretched for miles in front of her, gardens which she desperately wanted to explore, losing herself in them forever so that she never had to leave, to return to Val Royeaux, to work. She could stay here forever and live a life like her brother and sister, a life of no work, no responsibilities, no Templars. But she couldn’t, such was her lot in life. “I wish we could, I really do. But we both have work tomorrow.”

“I know,” He said, drawing her attention away from the window and back towards him as he watched her with golden brown eyes that had become hardened with sincerity. “But I think it would be nice if we didn’t all just leave at once, you know?” He paused, but all he gained from her was a look of confusion. “It’s just that your sister said he gets really lonely here, it might be nice if we gave it another night so he wasn’t just left with an empty house. I mean, he’s clearly struggling with everything…”

“You think he is?” She asked him, folding her arms across her chest as she looked up at him with a frown. But she didn’t need an answer from him, his expression was enough. His eyes were hardened, his lips pursed as he stared down at her with a guarded expression. It was the same expression he used when he talked about his past, about Kirkwall, Ferelden, all those years in the Templar order. She didn’t have to ask, part of her didn’t want to, all she did was sigh. “I’ll call Josephine in a bit.”

“I tried to phone Cassandra this morning but she didn’t pick up,” He pulled his phone out of his pocket as he said those words, but he never got a chance to use it. Their conversation was interrupted by the thundering sound of footsteps against old stone and creaking wood, which approached with some speed before two children burst through the door to the room, followed by her brother himself, who didn’t look much better than he had in bed this morning.

“They wanted to say goodbye,” He told them, as her nephews came to a halt in front of her with grins on their faces.

“Bye Auntie Amy and Amy’s boyfriend,” They said in unison, before turning to bolt out of the door once again, their small frames being deftly blocked by her brother’s long arms. He gave them a reproachful stare, before leaning down to whisper in Antony’s ear, who, after receiving his instructions, turned to her with a fresh smile. “Thank you for my present.”

“You’re welcome,” She smiled back at him, but almost as soon as she said her words, they were gone, their footsteps thundering throughout the house once again as they bolted down its old halls. But Lionel stayed where he was, watching the empty space where they had once stood in what looked to her like shock, before his shoulders slumped, and he let out a heavy sigh. “Everything ok?”

“What?” He turned to her in an instant, her words shocking him out of his trance before his expression softened once again. “Sorry, yeah. I’m just very tired. I feel like I died in my sleep.” He laughed, but it was a weary laugh, a lifeless one. “I am too old now to be running off of four hours of sleep.”

“Maker, what were you doing last night?” She asked him, but her question was answered for her by the scoff that escaped his lips. “You know what, I don’t want to know.” She changed topic quickly, forcing the grin which was spreading across his face to change into a look of confusion. “We were actually going to ask you if we could stay again tonight?”

“What, really?” He looked down at her with furrowed brows, but then his frown turned to a smile, and his eyes lit up with renewed delight. “Of course you can! You can stay as long as you like! I’ll go and make sure Aggie doesn’t clear out your rooms. Although...I guess you only need one tonight, don’t you!”

He grinned at them once again, throwing them a quick wink before bounding out of the room, while a nudge from Cullen accompanied by a satisfied look on his face prompted her to follow him through the old halls and past a thousand doorways while Lionel asked them countless questions about what they could have for dinner and what they wanted to do. She didn’t even have the heart to tell him that she hadn’t even booked the day off work yet, not when he looked so much happier than he had all morning, all sense of fatigue had dissipated as he stood tall once again. The man she had seen this morning was gone, and her brother had returned, the one she knew all those years ago before the Circle and the Templars tore them apart.

But then he was back, that man from this morning, almost as soon as they rounded the last corner and came out into the entrance hall once again. His smile faded, the light in his eyes was gone, and his shoulders slumped once again.

Jennifer Trevelyan was stood in the doorway, and there was fire in her hazel eyes.


	30. The Fallen Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a weekend to escape her busy life in Val Royeaux, but Easton Hall has never felt quite so unwelcoming to Amelie, and events just seem to keep spiralling out of control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same warnings as the last chapter, although there's a healthy mix of goodness in here towards the end to make up for it. I know a lot of you told me you were waiting for this to upload before reading 29 hence why I'm not repeating the warnings but if not, it's taken me ages to write this so going back to check is probably a good idea.

Sometimes, when they were learning spells in the Circle, someone would do something horribly, horribly wrong. The whole room would be encased in a thick ice that would take two days to clear, or fire would spread out from the guilty party and threaten to swallow the room whole. And in those cases, everyone would stop and stare in horror as the room lay in a thick, heavy silence, a silence that held a thousand whispers of disdain.

It was exactly like that now, and Amelie couldn’t stand it.

She pulled Cullen into the dining room to their right and slammed the door behind them with such force that she caused a satisfying bang that cut through the silence of the hall, and dragged her mother and Claudette to from their seats at the table.

“Maker, Amelie!” Her mother cried as she shot away from the table and stared at her with a disapproving glare. “What in the name of Andraste are you playing at?”

“Sorry, Mother,” She said quickly, before turning to Cullen and taking his hand in hers as he looked down at her with his brows furrowed in confusion. “And sorry, Cullen. I just had to get out of there.”

“No, I’m glad you did,” He told her, breathing a heavy sigh of relief as he looked at the closed door behind them. “You could cut through that tension with a knife.”

“What are you both-” Her mother stopped mid sentence, her eyes widening as she stared at Amelie with her lips pursed. “Oh no, is she in a bad mood? Wait, stupid question, she’s _always_ in a bad mood.”

“I mean, it’s not exactly without reason,” Amelie reminded her, causing her mother to scoff at her in protest.

“Well with the amount of money she’s gained from all of this she should be _laughing_ ,” She sneered, causing Amelie’s eyes to trail off and find Claudette’s which looked up at her with a brief flash of concern before shooting down to stare at the floor beneath her feet. 

But Amelie just sighed and turned back to Cullen. “I’m sorry you managed to get caught up in all of this,” She said, throwing him an awkward smile as he looked up from the phone in his hand to smile down at her.

“It’s ok, you did warn me,” He told her, giving her an encouraging smile paired with a squeeze of her hand before turning back to his phone once again. “Except, I’ve had a call from work that I need to return and, well…” He looked at the door behind them with fearful eyes before turning back to her again. “I’m a bit scared to go out there.”

“I think it’s fine, it sounds like she’s gone,” Amelie said as she crept towards the old wooden door, peeling it open inch by inch until she could poke her head out into the empty, quiet hallway. She turned back to Cullen, urging him to follow her with a smile and a nod of her head. 

She crept out into the hall, the noise of her slippered feet hitting the old stone and filling the silent hall with soft thuds that were soon accompanied by the louder, more determined steps of Cullen behind her. 

“I’ll be out the back,” He told her, holding the phone up to his ear as he threw her one last smile before marching down the long hallway and out of sight, leaving her alone in the desolate hall to enjoy the peaceful silence that had reigned once again.

The silence shattered. An angry, embittered cry filled the hall followed by the loud slam of an old wooden door, causing her mother and Claudette to come bursting through the door and out into the hall, with Claudette's dog Sammy trotting along happily behind them.

“What in the name of Andraste was that?” Her mother asked, her emerald green eyes filled with fury as she scanned the hall in desperation. “If that woman-”

A door opened at the other end of the hall and, suddenly, Jennifer was watching them. But this time, her eyes were not filled with fire, they were filled with tears, tears which she shook away with a shake of her head and a hand which combed through the blonde hair which had fallen into her eyes. 

She nodded over at them, throwing them a hastily composed smile before she turned to leave. But she stopped in her tracks, turning around slowly to stare at the three of them with wide eyes, like those of a wild doe frightened by the howl of a beast. But, no, she wasn’t staring at them. Her eyes were fixed on one of them in particular, the one who had crept out of the dining room after them with her arms folded and her teeth biting nervously at her delicate lips.

“Claudette? Is that you?” Jennifer asked, creeping towards Claudette with the delicate feet of a dancer, her footsteps making little to no noise even as she came to a stop in front of her sister. “You look just as beautiful as ever but…,” Her eyes fell from Claudette’s face, taking in her more curvaceous form with eyes that widened suddenly. “I forgot you got married, I’m so sorry I couldn’t come but…”

She paused for just a second, and everyone’s breath stopped. Glancing over at her mother, Amelie saw her standing as tense as a bowstring, her emerald green eyes fixated on the woman who was once her daughter-in-law as they bore into her soul. But Jennifer’s eyes remained on Claudette, and they were much softer, much kinder, than they had been before. 

“Anyway, you must be so excited!” Jennifer smiled down at her, but the smile she received in return could hardly even be called a smile. It was the faintest hint of a smile, it was strained, painted on like the makeup she so elegantly applied every morning. And Amelie saw through it all, but so did Jennifer, and not even a tentative murmur of agreement from Claudette could throw her off the scent. “It’s not easy, is it?” Her smile dropped, but her eyes remained soft even as they travelled from Claudette and stared at the floor beneath her feet. “But if you ever need any advice, let me know. We could even meet up for lunch, if you wanted?”

“Oh, that would be nice!” Claudette’s smile brightened as she looked up into the soft hazel eyes of her former sister-in-law. But beside her, Amelie felt her mother tense up even more, and a tentative glance told her that she was clenching her jaw to such an extreme that she became concerned that it would become stuck there. 

“I remember what it’s like,” She laughed, throwing her hands into her coat pockets as she stared wistfully over her shoulder, where the opened front door was allowing a breeze to trickle down the long hallway. “It’s good to have a woman who can help you out.” This time, her eyes travelled to the door she had come from, her smile turning to a frown as she pursed her lips and sighed heavily. “Men are useless.”

“It was good to see you again, Jennifer,” Her mother chimed in, throwing her words at her former daughter-in-law like an assassin throws their knives, cutting through her wistful stare and pulling her gaze sharply towards her mother. They were silent for a split second, but it was long enough for Amelie.

“Yes, you too, Lady Trevelyan,” The words were bitter as they fell out of the mouth of a woman who was once a Lady Trevelyan herself. Although she was far too stubborn to let that title slide, and she was far too proud to submit to the heavy stare and sharp words of her mother. Amelie could respect that, at least.

She turned her back on them and waltzed back down the hall, disappearing through the large, wooden front doors and into the bright, afternoon sun.

“Well, I will never get over how rude that woman is,” Her mother began, her voice becoming shrill as she jabbed her finger at the now empty doorframe. “She was _nothing_ before she met us. _Nothing!_ She should be _thanking us!_ And you can just tell that she thinks this is all somehow _my_ fault I mean, it’s not like I told him to do those things! I tried my best with you all, I really did, but-”

“Mummy!” Claudette interjected, causing Amelie to breath a heavy sigh of relief as her mother’s attention was turned to her favourite daughter. “I think we should get going, otherwise they’ll be waiting for us.”

“Oh you’re right!” She cooed, grabbing Claudette’s hand as she smiled down at her. “Come on, we can leave Amelie to clean up the mess.” Their mother turned to her, but behind her, Claudette looked at Amelie with a frown that told her that she was less than impressed. “When are you leaving, anyway?”

“Well, I was going to stay another night…” She told her, looking behind her at the door through which Cullen had disappeared some time before. 

“Oh well, good luck with _that_ ,” She scoffed, raising her eyebrows before turning back to Claudette once again. “Come on then, let’s get them to bring a car round.”

Claudette followed her dutifully, clinging onto her hand as they both scurried down the long hallway before turning back to her just as they were about to cross the threshold to give her a quick wave. “Goodbye, Amelie.”

She lingered for a second longer as she stared down the hall, her feet planted on top of the old stone steps as she smiled at Amelie with a mournful air, before turning back towards the sunlight, and vanishing from sight with her dog at her heel. And Amelie was alone, for the first time since this morning.

As soon as she had gotten out of bed this morning, she had been swept off of her feet by a whirlwind of emotions and drama and different conversations happening in different places with different people saying different things. And it was all a little bit too much. She just hadn’t realised until it was all taken away.

Except, it wasn’t. She needed to find out where her brother was, what in the name of Andraste had happened, and if he was even ok after all of this. 

But she also needed to find Cullen. 

Her eyes travelled to the door that Jennifer came from, boring a hole through the ancient wood as if she could somehow see through it. Except of course, she couldn’t. Her eyes went back to the door Cullen had escaped through that had been left open just enough that she could see just a slither of the next room. 

She closed her eyes, she shut them out, all the doors and halls and the freezing cold stone beneath her feet. She closed herself to the world for just a second, just enough to process, to focus, to shut out all the noise that had been a permanent fixture in her mind since she had first opened her eyes this morning.

And then she went through the door behind her, and she went to search for Cullen. Lionel would be fine, if anything, he wouldn’t want her prying in his business. He was a private person, a quiet person, he wouldn’t want her putting her nose in where it didn’t belong.

So she traversed the bowels of her brother’s home once again, winding through corridors and passing through dusty room after dusty room until she came once again to the small room at the back of the house where sunlight streamed in through the large doors to the gardens. 

Cullen was engaged in what sounded like a heated debate, one which she could hear even as she approached the closed door to the room and which only grew louder as she peeled open the wooden door and crept into the room. 

“Can’t you guys get the situation under control by yourselves?” He shouted into the phone as he paced the room with vicious strides, stopping only when he noticed her standing by the door with her hand sheepishly placed upon the door handle. “I said I would stay-”

She sighed and dropped herself onto the arm of an old, but firm, armchair that faced the large glass doors so that the sunlight poured onto her face and warmed her freckled skin. But she couldn’t be too content here, not while Cullen grumbled into the phone in his hand and expelled heavy sighs after every sentence. “Alright, I’ll be there when I can. But you’ll have to arrange transport for me from Ostwick otherwise there’s no way I’m getting back.”

He tore the phone away from his ear and pushed the screen forcefully with a stubborn thumb. 

“Cullen?” She asked, her voice sounding so quiet in contrast to the noise that had permeated this elegant, country home these past few days that it was almost jarring to her. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t stay,” He sighed, shoving the phone into his pocket as he crossed the room to stand in front of her, his golden eyes staring down at her as he tucked her hair behind her ear with a tentative finger. “I’m sorry, I really wish I could stay with you.”

“Don’t be silly,” She smiled up at him, letting out a breathy laugh as she escaped from his penetrating gaze. “I’ll come back with you, I’ll just tell my brother I can’t stay anymore.”

“No, you can’t,” He said urgently, moving his hand from her hair and placing it upon her cheek, grasping her face in both of his hands as he looked down at her with a fearsome stare. “It’s not safe.”

“Why not?” She demanded, matching his gaze with her own as she locked her eyes with his. “And why do _you_ have to go if it isn’t safe?”

“Because it isn’t safe for _you_ ,” He said slowly, framing his words with a heavy sigh as his hands dropped from her face to grasp at the back of his own neck. “There was some kind of demonstration by the Mage Rebellion that got out of hand…”

She didn’t need to listen to the rest, she understood completely. He continued to talk, to tell her about how a whole airport had been brought to a stop by a rogue apostate, but she didn’t listen. She didn’t really want to.

A part of her still tried to cling onto the euphoria of the last few days, to drown herself in escapism. But despite the fact that the sun still shone, that the grass was still green, the birds still sang, it had all changed.

A sword had struck through the heart of Easton Hall, and all the remnants of the peace that she had once felt here had been shattered, turned to dust. 

Escaping was becoming tiresome for her. She had gone to Val Royeaux to escape the Templars who knew her on sight. But that hadn't worked, Templars stood on every street corner and appeared in droves at every mention of a mage. She had come here for a weekend to escape the heady atmosphere that had hung over her workplace since that protest all those weeks ago. But that hadn't worked either, now they had barred her from returning home, and taken her boyfriend as a hostage. Wherever she went, the Templars had control.

The question she was beginning to ask herself was, would she ever escape? 

“I’m sorry, Amy,” He told her again, dragging her consciousness back to the present as she turned to stare into his warm brown eyes once again.

“No, don’t be,” She threw him a smile that took every ounce of her remaining energy to form as she pushed herself off of the arm of the chair. “Come on, we should go and get your stuff.” 

“Right, yeah,” He sighed as he fell into place next to her while they traversed the long corridors of her brother’s home once again, feeling their way back to the entrance hall in an uncomfortable silence. There was nothing to be said, or rather, she refused to say them. She didn’t want to say goodbye, saying goodbye meant that it was all real.

Instead, her hand found his, and they walked up the grand staircase and across the hall to his room hand in hand, until the time came where they had reached his room and Cullen’s attention turned to the gathering of his things while Leo bounced around him with his tail wagging furiously.

“Miss Amelie?” The voice of an older woman called from behind her as she hovered in the doorway. She turned her attention away from Cullen, and found herself looking into the eyes of the shorter, elderly woman who so expertly looked after her brother’s home. “I was told by Master Trevelyan that you would be staying another night, is this no longer true?”

“I will be, yes,” She smiled down at her before turning her gaze back to the room in front of her, nodding her head towards Cullen as he threw all of his belongings into his large bag. “But Cullen can’t stay, so it will just be me.”

“Oh, I see,” Amelie turned back to see Agnes pursing her lips as she stood in deep thought, before she suddenly flashed a smile and her warm eyes found Amelie’s once again. “That’s not a problem, I’ll let him know when he wakes up.”

“That’s fine, I’ll go now,” She stood up straight, pulling herself away from the doorway to Cullen’s room as she turned to walk down the long stretch of hall towards her brother’s room. 

“I don’t think-” Agnes interjected, but Amelie’s only flashed her a strained smile.

“He didn’t seem to mind waking _me_ up yesterday,” She reminded her, before turning on her heel once again. “I’m sure he won’t mind.”

And, even if that weren’t true, she was entirely convinced that there was no way he would have slept after all of that. No, he was hiding. And maybe it wasn’t her place to intervene, maybe she would do better to leave with Cullen and escape from here. But she couldn’t do that even if she wanted to. 

Despite feeling a strong desire to do the exact opposite, a feeling deep in the pit of her stomach that this was the worst idea she had had in a long time, she raised her hand, and knocked three times on the old wooden door. 

She heard an indistinct mumble from the other side of the door and, she walked into the dark, musty room once again to see the very picture of her father standing by the window with a glass in his hand containing some sort of alcohol. But Lionel wasn’t their father, he was nothing like him. He _felt_. 

“I just wanted to let you know that Cullen can’t stay anymore,” She said, closing the door behind her as he watched her with wary eyes. “Everything ok?”

He paused for a second, his eyes staring into hers like a Fennec caught in headlights. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

“You know, you can say no,” She told him, crossing the room to plant herself on the oversized bed. “You can admit that having your ex-wife scream at you makes you feel a little bit shit.”

He only scoffed, turning his gaze towards the glass in his hand before draining it in one, well practiced, swoop. “It’s a shame Cullen can’t stay,” He said with a sigh as he dropped down onto the bed next to her. “I guess that means you won’t be staying, either?”

“I was going to, actually. If you don’t mind, that is?” She asked, and her eyes caught the hint of a smile that spread across his lips. “I haven’t booked it off work yet though, I might have to pretend I’ve caught the plague. Then I might even be able to get a whole week off.”

“Hah, fair enough,” He said, before looking over at her with his brows furrowed. “You wouldn’t want to be stuck with me for a whole week though, I’m not exactly up for being the best host right now. And wouldn’t you miss Cullen?”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” She shrugged as her eyes travelled back to the door she had entered through, knowing full well that somewhere, on the other side of the door, Cullen was packing his things and preparing to leave. 

“Do you love him?” Her brother asked, causing her eyes to dart back to him just as a grin began to spread across his face. Her eyes fell away again, travelling to her lap as a wave of red gathered on her neck and spread up towards her cheeks. “You do, don’t you!”

“Shut up,” She murmured, avoiding his gaze as she focused her attention on a loose thread that was being picked apart desperately with her fingers. 

“Oh don’t be embarrassed!” He laughed, nudging her with his elbow as she squirmed beneath his gaze. “You should be happy, and I hope you tell him that every day.”

“Don’t be silly,” She rolled her eyes at him before turning her attention back to her lap. 

“I’m not being silly!” He cried, turning round to face her so that he could stare her down with beady, hazel eyes. “You know you’re the only one out of the three of us who even stands a chance of spending their life with someone they love?” She went to intervene, but he continued with an ever increasing fervour. “I’m being serious! Claudette and I never got the chance, but you have. So don’t fuck it up!”

“That’s bullshit,” She said, breathing a heavy sigh as she turned to him once again. “You’re only 31, you’re life isn’t over because you got divorced. You’ll find someone else.”

“No, I won’t,” He sighed as he ran a hand through his unkempt hair, his gaze dropping from hers as he shrunk away from her gaze . “I met a man at New Year. I don’t normally catch feelings after a one night stand, but we ended up talking and it turns out, we got on really well. But I can’t bring myself to push it any further, because everytime I start to relax and feel happy about it, I just feel guilty. Like, I shouldn’t be _allowed_ to enjoy myself while everyone else has to suffer because of me.”

“That’s bullshit, too,” She told him, shaking her head as she let out a breathy laugh. “I mean, wasn’t that the whole point? And not just for you to go and find someone you want to spend time with, but for her aswell. I mean, are you going to tell me that Claudette wouldn’t be ten times happier if Marcus left?”

“Maker, you’re right there,” He scoffed, turning to look at Amelie once again with his eyes darkened by thought of their brother-in-law. “I hate him. I really, _really_ , hate him. And honestly? I’m scared for her.”

“Scared?” She asked, but her query was never answered. A knock at the door drew their attention to the outside world, dragging them back to reality with the dull thud of a closed fist against the old wood. With a sigh, she turned her back on her brother and heaved herself off of the bed, crossing the room with slow, heavy steps as fatigue washed over her once again. Maker, it had been a long day.

It was Cullen on the other side of the door, standing to attention as he always did with his mabari sitting tall and proud at his side, the only hint of movement coming from the slight cock of his head and the twitch of his pointed ears as Amelie approached, closing the door gently behind her.

“I’m sorry,” Cullen smiled down at her sheepishly as she saw his hand grip even tighter on the handle of the bag he had carelessly slung over his shoulder. “I wish I could stay.”

Perhaps fatigue had finally begun to take its toll on her. Because, rather than smile and tell him it’s fine, that she would see him again soon and it would be like nothing had happened, she said nothing. She spoke with her hands, hands which snaked their way around his torso as she pulled him into an unwilling hug while he stood, completely still, trapped in her hold.

“You’re going to miss me, huh?” He asked, breathing a laugh into her hair as he dropped the bag with a soft thud and used his now free arms to pull her closer. “I’ve never known you to be like this before...it’s only one night.”

“Well…” She said, pulling away from him ever so slightly so that she could glance up into his warm, honey coloured eyes. “I might stay longer, I don’t know. I think he _really_ needs a friend.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Cullen threw her an encouraging smile, before leaning down to plant his soft lips onto her own, giving her a hint of the taste of his skin, the taste of Cullen, a taste that had grown so familiar that she had long since forgotten to savour it. But she would savour it now, and she would remember it, hold it dear, until she saw him once again. 

They had to part at some point, and that point was now. It was stupid, he wasn’t even going far, he was going back home, and she would be joining him soon enough. But, to her, it was as if he were traversing the Amaranthine Ocean, setting sail in a tiny, one person yacht as he waved goodbye to the shore, to his life, to her. And it really was stupid.

But that was love. Love could make you feel stupid, sometimes.

“Cullen!” She called to him as he made his way down the hall towards the stairs, and he stopped in his tracks, looking back at her with his brows furrowed while his eyes stared down the long hall. “I love you.”

Silence reigned for eternity, and then it didn’t. Broken by a laugh, it was almost as if there had never been any silence, never been any hesitation. His chuckle turned to a smile, his smile to words, sweet words, the sweetest words she had ever heard: “I love you too,”. His cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of crimson and he smiled down at the floor beneath his feet, and then he turned away and began his ascent down the staircase and out of sight.

She exhaled slowly, running her shaking hands through her hair while she composed herself, piece by piece, breath by breath. 

She loved Cullen, she had known that for some time now. But he loved her too, and that was remarkable, really. 

No one fell in love in the Circle, it just wasn’t the done thing.

She shook her head, expelling all thoughts of love and Cullen and the taste of his lips against hers as she wiped the smile off of her face, took a deep breath, and entered her brother’s room once again.

He was asleep, apparently, sprawled out on top of the bed covers still in the clothes he had slept in the night before. And so she tiptoed across the room and sunk onto the bed beside him, causing him to grunt in protest as he shuffled across the bed to plant his head upon her lap with a heavy sigh.

She was stuck here now, truly, and she hadn’t even phoned Josephine yet. 

“Can I borrow your phone?” She asked him, and she took the next grunt as a yes, using her fingers to slowly pry the phone out from under him. “What’s your-” It took her all of three seconds to get into his phone. Maker, he really needed a stronger password. “Nevermind.”

She froze, staring at the photo of his horse in desperation as she frantically searched her exhausted brain for Josephine’s number. But nothing came to her. Absolutely nothing. Maker, it was not her day.

Except, she remembered something, a conversation from some weeks ago in a coffee shop round the corner from the university. She brought up his Thedashare, which even without extensive scrolling, looked about as boring as Josephine had said it was. But all that mattered was finding her on here, so she could say who she was, and pretend she had a deadly illness. Or even better, she could pretend to be her brother, and really beef up this whole illness she was meant to have.

All she had to do was open the messages tab, and search for Josephine’s name. 

Except, before she could, she found herself distracted by one of the names that had appeared on the screen. Because, well, she had found it odd enough that her friends would choose to follow her family on social media. But speaking to them? Well, that really was weird.

I mean, what the hell were Dorian and her brother talking about anyway?

For some reason, she tapped on their conversation window. And, immediately, she really _really_ wished she hadn’t. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god...this chapter.
> 
> I tried to proofread, like I did. But I have no idea how well that went because this chapter has killed my brain...it's just so long! And now I'm going to go to sleep haha. *mic drop* I'm done!
> 
> Anyway, it's time for me to take a break from this project. I might do some work on my Solavellan fic or work on editing some of these early chapters. But there will be a one shot coming soon, I've already written it but I want to give everyone a chance to read this first. 
> 
> Otherwise, if you need me, head on over to my tumblr!


	31. Into the Arms of the One You Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelie returns to Val Royeaux, to her home, to Cullen. But there's a lot to catch up on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight mentions of sexual references in this one!

She had never wanted to leave the Circle, not really. She had wanted to help the cause, of course, mages like her, like her uncle, deserved to be free, deserved to live their lives in peace, outside of the thick, towering walls that contained them. But when she came out into the world for the first time in twenty years, and felt the gentle tickle of the breeze against her skin, heard the cry of a bird soaring overhead, and smelt the array of bizarre smells that assaulted her nostrils, she suddenly found herself looking back on the tower that had been her prison, and instead of a prison, she saw safety.

It hadn’t been a tough choice, leaving the Circle, it was the right thing to do, it was what she had wanted, but her heart had sat heavy in her chest nevertheless, just as it did now.

She had wanted to leave Easton Hall, she was desperate to get back to Val Royeaux, back to Cullen. It had been a long week without him, and the stories she had to tell him, the things she wanted to say, could have filled an entire novel. But at the same time, how could she leave her brother alone in that house once again without feeling awful about it?

“I’ll be fine!” He had insisted as she gave him one last desperate hug on the steps of his home.

Maybe this time, he actually meant it. 

But she couldn’t think about it, not now that, after what had felt like hours of answering security questions which, for some reason, focused entirely on the magic she had never intended on using rather than the bottles of wine she had stored in her suitcase, she was free, free to walk through the gates and into the crowds that had gathered on the other side of customs, free to walk straight into the arms of Cullen.

Nothing had changed, because of course it hadn’t. It had only been a week, after all. He stood with the same golden hair and the same golden eyes, and by his side, Leo sat with his ears pricked as his beady eyes fell upon her hastily approaching form. She fell into Cullen’s arms like it was effortless, slotting into place like she was designed to fit into his hold as she felt his head burrow into her neck. Grumbles and whimpers erupted from the dog which was now at her feet, snuffling his nose against her legs as he sought to barge his way in. But that wasn’t what brought them apart, no, it was Cullen, who drew himself away from her ever so slightly and brought his arms up from her back to her hair, which he gathered with tentative fingers as he stared down at her in disbelief.

“You’ve had your hair cut,” He seemed confused, his words were slow and his brows were furrowed as Amelie dropped her gaze from his and turned her attention to the whining, pawing dog at her feet. “Sorry, I just didn’t expect it at all.” She looked back up at him, and this time, he threw her a smile. “It looks beautiful.”

“It does?” She asked tentatively, tucking her hair behind her ear as she felt a wave of red surge towards her cheeks. “I wasn’t sure about the fringe…”

“No, it suits you,” He assured her with a grin, as he stroked her burning cheek with his gloved hand. “Brings out your eyes.”

Words failed her. Instead, she let out a soft laugh and raised a tentative hand to the strands of hair which now fell above her right eye. And all Cullen could do was laugh with her and bring her into his arms once again.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” He told her cheerfully as he released her from his grasp, instead choosing to take into his arms the bags she had lugged through security while Leo looked up at them in anticipation. “And on the way, you can tell me what you got up to.”

“I’ll tell you when we get to mine,” She said as she fell into step beside him, the pair weaving their way through the crowds as they fought their way towards the revolving doors from which a refreshing, cool draft filtered into the crowded airport. “You are coming back to mine tonight, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am,” He looked over at her with another smile that appeared to slant as it leaned too heavily upon his jagged scar. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week, I’m not just going to dump you on the doorstep and leave.”

“You have?” She asked as they stopped beside the revolving door to let a family go ahead of them. 

“Maker, Amy, of course I have,” He sighed, gesturing for her to go ahead as he shunted her bag onto his shoulder. “It’s been pretty boring here without you, actually.” She felt herself turning red once again, and his jovial laugh as he glanced upon her burning face only proved it. “Come on, let’s get back to yours.”

Her heart was no longer heavy, it was bursting at the seams. She couldn't take her eyes off of Cullen, couldn't stop watching him, every movement he made was shadowed by the flicker of her watchful eye. And, sometimes, despite his determination to keep his gaze firmly on the busy road ahead, she caught his eye flicker over to catch her gaze, as if he were set on forcing to live the rest of her days with her face glowing a brilliant shade of red.

And across the chasm, his hand found hers for a brief second while the traffic came to a standstill, and that's when everything fell into place. It all felt normal, sitting in his well worn car watching him drive her to her home, the small terraced house that sat huddled between a multitude of others as the wide open sea stretched out for miles ahead. And crossing that threshold, passing through the bright red door with him by her side, it all felt so natural, so right.

She was with Cullen again and, despite how exhausted she was, that made everything ok.

“Hey!” He called to her as she sauntered along the hallway with her bags in tow. “Don’t worry about that now, we can do that tomorrow.”

“Oh, but I really should-” She gestured loosely to the bags he had piled in the middle of the hall, but then her arms dropped to her sides as she exhaled with a heavy sigh. “No, you’re right.”

“You look tired,” He observed with eyes that were gentle and kind until a grin spread across his face and his face took on a teasing air. “Should I carry you up the stairs?”

“No!” She cried, raising a determined finger to silence him as his grin descended into satisfied chuckles. “You can carry those two bags up,” She moved her poised finger to point to the nearest two bags, before expelling another large sigh. “I won’t unpack them now, but I need some clothes tomorrow and the big one has four bottles of wine in it.”

“Four?” Cullen asked, as he shunted the large, heavy bag onto his shoulder. “You really need to fill me in! You’ve come back with a haircut and _four_ bottles of wine.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been a long week,” She said, leading him up the stairs where the promise of her bedroom lay behind a wooden door, and the soft bed covers washed in her favourite soap called to her. So much so that, no sooner had she flung open the door to her room and crossed the threshold did she launch herself onto the bed, falling backwards onto the soft mattress while her eyes closed for just a second, a promise of the rest that she was so desperate for.

But Cullen had other ideas. Her eyes flung open as the mattress beside her sunk beneath Cullen’s weight as she turned to find him splayed out on his back beside her, mirroring her former pose as she turned on her side to watch him. 

“Are you mocking me?” She asked, resting her head on the palm of her hand as she watched him intently.

“No, I’m exhausted too, you know,” He chuckled, looking down at her with a slanted, smile before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer to him, so that her head rested on his chest as he burrowed his face into her hair. “You smell so nice.”

“What do I smell of?” She asked him, just as the mattress shifted once again while Leo bounded up onto the bed and flopped himself down on Cullen’s other side. 

“Just you,” She felt him shrug while her heart burst into a vivid display of dazzling fireworks contained only by the firm hold of his arms around hers. Until he stirred, shuffling over to face her as he lifted himself up and rested his head on the palm of his hand. “But anyway, should we have some of that wine while you fill me in on everything.”

“Alright then!” She smiled over at him before sitting herself up to shuffle over to the bags as they rested on the floor by the bed, leaning off of the soft mattress as she fished a bottle out from beneath her clothes. But then she paused with the bottle in hand, reaching up to look at Cullen with an apologetic air. “I didn’t bring any glasses up.”

“It’s fine,” He shrugged, reaching over to grab the bottle from her hands and twisting off the cork with the multitool he kept on his keys. “Who’s going to judge if we drink it from the bottle?”

“My brother would, but he isn’t here so…” She threw him a quick shrug before taking it from his hands and bringing it to her lips, pouring the dark red liquid into her mouth as it burnt a path down her throat. “Maker, that tasted expensive.”

“It looks expensive,” Cullen mused as he took the bottle from her hands and examined it carefully. “It doesn't look like something you would buy in duty free…”

“I didn't,” She told him, leaning back down to rest her hand in her hand as she watched him take a drink from the bottle. “I got them from my brother's cellar. He cleared it out, Claudettes got about six bottles of gin and there's some whiskey for you too, but I said I couldn't carry all of that.”

“What, really?” Cullen asked as he watched her with his narrowed eyes peering from above the neck of the bottle. 

“Yeah, I think he just realised he was relying on it too much,” She said, declining the offer of another drink from the bottle as she turned to watch a songbird fly past her bedroom window with all the grace of a dancer as it looked to escape the golden light of the setting sun. “Thing is, he was really close to our grandfather. And I told him, the only thing I remember about him, because he died when I was in the Circle, was that he used to love playing with my hair, and he _constantly_ smelt of smoke.” She scrunched up her face in disgust as the memory of the smell of stale cigarettes flooded her mind, but a quick glance at Cullen made her change her tune. He looked uncomfortable, guilty, even. “I'm guessing you're not doing too well at giving up yourself.”

“Well…” He paused for a second, but then he sighed heavily, rubbing his temples with his free hand as he averted his gaze from hers. “No. It's more difficult when you aren't here.”

“What, you want me to nag you?” She asked him, throwing him a teasing smile as she reached over to place a hand nonchalantly on the denim of his jeans. 

“No, not as such,” He gave her an uneasy laugh as he placed the bottle gently on the bedside table, before using his now free hands to grab hold of her own. “But there's less reason to smoke when you're here.” His eyes were turned down, staring at the floral pattern that spread across her duvet while he spoke with uneasy words. But then they shot back up again, golden brown eyes staring into her own as a smile spread across his face once again. “But you're here now!”

“Yeah, I'm here now,” She returned his smile, her fingers stroking at the soft skin of his hand as he curled his fingers around her own. “And we have a whole day together tomorrow.”

“I'm looking forward to spending a night with you again,” His words were as soft as the smile he gave her, and they lit a fire in her heart that she never wanted to extinguish. 

“I've been looking forward to it all week,” She admitted, shuffling herself forward to come into his waiting arms, arms which wrapped themselves around her as she leant her weary head upon his chest. “Sorry if I acted...weird, before you left, I mean.”

“When you told me you loved me?” His chuckle ruptured from his chest as she fought to fight the tide of red that threatened to drown her as it rose up to burn her freckled cheeks. 

“Yes,” She said quickly, but he only laughed more, and her cheeks only burned with a greater intensity.

“I thought it was cute,” She felt him shrug beneath her, causing her to sit herself upright and turn to stare at him with narrowed eyes.

“Cute?” She asked through pursed lips before dropping her gaze once again, her hand searching for his as she sought the comfort of his fingers in hers. “I thought you would have laughed at me.”

“Laughed at you?” He frowned at her for a second, but then his expression softened into a crooked smile. “Don't be silly!” His arms found her again, pulling her into his hold as she found herself burrowed into his chest once again. “It meant so much to me, hearing that you loved me as much as I love you.”

“You do?” She asked, turning in his arms as she brought her eyes up to stare into his, emerald green meeting honey colored brown as the two watched each other with gentle smiles upon their lips. 

“Of course I do,” His smile was crooked, warped by the scar which marred it so viciously. But it was genuine, real, and it was just for her. “Would I have come back to you on First Day if I didn't want to do this for real?” His smile faded slightly before her eyes, his face hardening, his gaze firm. “I made that mistake once, leaving you. I won't do it again.”

Words failed her, but she didn't need them. The silence was filled not with more words, but with a kiss that told her all she needed to know. His lips were joined to hers once again and, together, they danced a dance that appeared to come straight from a dream, one she had dreamt of countless times since she had first met the golden haired man in the bar on a Friday night all those months ago.

But words trickled out of his mouth nonetheless, spoken on the faintest of breaths as he tore himself from her for just a second. “I love you,” Short words, simple words, but words that held the weight of a thousand more. 

But this time, it was far easier for her to say those words that had fallen from her mouth a week ago. “I love you,” She whispered them into his skin, spoken on a breath that was cut short by a new dance of his soft lips against hers. He didn't answer, didn't repeat her mantra, he didn't need to.

He told her instead with lips that pressed against her own, with fingers which brushed against the skin of her flaming red cheeks. He told her with the careful way he peeled off her clothes and the way in which his soft gaze locked onto her naked form, examining every curve, every freckle, ever scar, as if it were new territory to be explored. He told her with the gentle way in which he held her, his hands pressing carefully against the curves of her body as he brought himself closer and closer towards her with practiced moves that were so gentle, so tender, but still driven by desire.

And she told him with moans and sighs and desperate whispers against sweat covered skin. She told him everything, showed him how much she loved him, how much she wanted him, how much she had missed the sheer pleasure of his company while the gaping chasm Waking Sea had separated them from one another.

Their love for one another was equal, it was strong, brought to new heights by a sheer battle of wills as they fought to share the passion in their hearts with ever increasing fervour. It was like an elaborate dance where each partner sought to outdo the other. But they were joined, chained to the rhythm, to the dance, just as they were chained to one another in this moment.

And there was no desire to break free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pure fluff! Almost hehe. Hope you enjoyed, and I'll see you all for the next chapter!


	32. Family Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelie is home again, with Cullen, where's she feels comfortable, content, happy, at home.

Amelie was still half asleep when she stepped out of the shower and climbed into her baby blue onesie, and she was still half asleep when she scrambled out of the bathroom door and out into the hall. But she soon woke up once she came to a stop at the top of the stairs, standing with a towel pressed against her hair as she took a deep breath.

A smell wafted up the stairs towards her, a good smell. Someone was cooking. Someone was cooking _bacon_.

She crept down the stairs inch by inch, taking care not to slip on the smooth stone floor as she rounded the corner and brought herself down to the ground floor. From here, she could hear the sizzling of the grill and the cracking of eggs which drowned out the growling that was erupting from her stomach.

Maker, what had she done to deserve such a treat?

As she followed her nose into the kitchen she was, of course, treated to a sight which was far more attractive than the smell of cooking bacon. Cullen was standing in her kitchen with a determined look on his face, his tongue sticking out ever so slightly as he prodded at a piece of bacon with a pair of tongs she didn’t even realise she owned. Speaking of which, she had never owned an apron before, either, or any bacon…

“Where did you find all this?” She asked him as she sat herself at the small table behind Cullen, resting her head in the palm of her hand as she watched him cook with a triumphant air. 

“Well, seeing as you don’t seem to own _any_ cooking equipment...” He told her, throwing her a quick look over his shoulder before turning his attention back to the frying pan. “I went to mine and got some.” He abandoned the tongs for just a second to roll up his sleeves, before he used them to scoop up the contents of the pan and drop them onto two plates. “I honestly don’t know how you cook anything in this place.”

“I...don’t,” She admitted as she took the plate from Cullen’s hand. “I’m not very good at it, so I just buy easy stuff. Or I order food in.”

“Understandable, I guess,” Cullen chuckled as he looked down at her triumphantly, before crossing the kitchen to open the back door wide, allowing his mabari to scramble inside and launch himself towards her. “You know, I couldn’t cook when I left the Circle either. It’s not like I ever needed to.” He told her as he slumped down into the chair opposite her, beckoning the dog to join him at his side with the encouraging wave of a scrap of bacon. “My sister taught me a bit, though.”

“Yeah I don’t think that’s going to work for me,” She said with a laugh as she began to pick cheerfully at the food on her plate. “You don’t talk about your sister much.” She mused, watching him carefully as his gaze drifted away from hers. 

“No, well, I don’t see her much,” He shrugged, prodding a piece of his food with his fork as he leant his face nonchalantly against the palm of his hand. “I saw them all after I first left the Templars but, you know, it had been too long. It was awkward. And I haven’t seen them since.” He sighed heavily into the palm of his hand before returning his attention to the food on his plate. “But it’s fine, it’s not like we were as close as you are with your family, anyway.”

“Cullen…” She put her fork down suddenly, causing a loud clang to erupt around the room that made Leo jump out of his skin. “It was awkward when I went home, too. I was gone for twenty years! But I am so glad that I went back and found them again because, well, they’re my family.” 

“I guess you just make it look so easy,” He said with the faintest of smiles as he stared down at the contents of his plate. 

“It wasn’t easy,” She told him with words that were careful and laboured, but they were firm, strong enough to penetrate the mask he his himself behind and wipe the smile off of his face. “Claudette was a baby when I left, she didn’t even know who I was! But you know what she’s like, she’s excited to meet _anyone_.”

“That’s true,” Cullen let out a quick laugh as he smiled down at the table in front of him. “She’s definitely... enthusiastic.” 

“Right? It was only that enthusiasm which made it somewhat easier than expected. But it was still hard, so so hard,” She said, returning her attention to the food on her plate as she continued her speech with words that were just a little bit too cheerful. “I mean, it was harder with my brother because he’s kind of...awkward. You know what I mean.” She gave Cullen a quick shrug of her shoulders as she demolished another mouthful of food. “And anyway, we were so close before I left and then, suddenly, we didn’t even know each other. We’d only talked to each other in letters and there was the odd photo, but that was it. Suddenly, he was almost thirty and married it was really weird, at the time. But we’re over it now! It’s almost like I never left.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Cullen admitted as he let out a dreamy, heartfelt sigh. “I’ve spoken to Mia a few times but, not recently. And I feel like I don’t really know any of them anymore and that I never will just because, well, it’s been too long.”

“But you will get to know them again, with time,” She assured him, resting her fork down on the almost empty plate so that she could reach over and take Cullen’s hand in hers, urging him to raise his golden brown eyes to meet her own as he too abandoned the breakfast in front of him. “And it will be all worth it in the end, trust me. So you really should go and see them soon.”

“I know, I know. But, if I do go and see them, will you come with me?” He asked her with words as soft and quiet as the faintest of whispers. “Please? I don’t want to do it on my own. I don’t think I _can_ do it on my own.”

She paused for a second, watching Cullen plead to her with eyes that shook with uncertainty. And then she smiled an encouraging smile. “Yes, I’ll come with you.”

The smile he gave her in return was warm, comforting, and relieved, his shoulders slumping as the weight of his worries washed away at the sound of her voice. “Thank you.” His attention turned back to the dog by his side, who grumbled profusely until another slither of bacon was dropped into his mouth. “But we won’t go for some time. I mean, you’ve only just got back, anyway.”

“Yeah, I need to recover from that first,” She laughed softly as she returned to eat the last morsels of food on her plate. “Although I am _not_ looking forward to going back to work tomorrow.”

“Me neither,” Cullen chuckled at her as Leo chomped away at the last remaining pieces of food. “It’s all getting pretty tense again at work after that airport situation and it’s just...so difficult.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair before resting his fingers on the base of his neck. “And it means I have to go back to mine tonight and sleep by myself.”

“Does it?” The words fell out of her mouth with such speed that she couldn’t hope to even try to hold them back, and a tide of red quickly rose to her cheeks. “Sorry, ignore me, you can go back tonight if you want, I don’t mind-”

“It’s fine,” He assured her with a smile and a squeeze of her hand as he reached across the table to pull her ever so slightly towards him. “I would like to stay again tonight, I’ve missed waking up next to you, after all.” His fingers curled around her own, stroking the soft skin with the softest, faintest brush of his thumb, a softest that was reflected too in the golden glint of his brown eyes as they locked onto hers. “But we have to go back to work tomorrow morning and all my stuff is at mine...”

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” She sulked, resting her chin in her free hand as she slumped her shoulders. 

“But, I guess...I mean, I could always…” He began, his eyes travelling to her ceiling as he sat deep in thought, before violently shaking his head. “No, nevermind.”

“What?” She cried, shuffling forward in her chair as she reached over to prod his arm with an outstretched finger. “Come on, you can tell me!”

“Maker, no,” Cullen shook his head as she felt his grip on her hand tighten. “I'm being stupid, don't listen to me.”

“Aren't you always?” She asked him with a poorly stifled laugh which was only heightened by the chuckle that erupted from Cullen's lips. 

“Don't be mean.” He pleaded with his words sliding into a defensive laugh, pulling her hand towards him with his lips pressing against her palm, his brown eyes closing slowly as she felt him inhale against her skin. “Oh Amelie,” His voice was nothing more than a whisper against her skin, a whisper that sent a shockwave through her skin that travelled all the way up her arm to clench at the very core of her heart. “I’ve missed you so much.”

He said nothing else, and neither did she. They chose to sit in a silence that was so comfortable, so easy, that she never wanted it to end. Who needed words when you could have silences framed by touches and kisses and the long, drawn out moments where their eyes locked for what felt like an eternity.

“What if…” He whispered into her hand as his eyes fell from hers. “I went home tonight, but I came to get you from work tomorrow and then we can have tomorrow night together.”

“And you would stay here another night?” She asked him with her words framed by a hint if hope.

“I can stay as many nights as you want,” He told her, bringing her fingers to his lips again as he planted a series of kisses along her skin, carving himself a path from her fingers to the palm of her hand as she edged even closer towards him with a shuffle of her seat. They were close now, so close, their lips separated by little more than a hair breadth as he abandoned his assault on her palm and turned instead to gaze into her eyes once again.

Her hand was free once again, but it found him. It found the scratchy skin of his stubble covered cheek, the hint of red that now blossomed beneath her palm, the warm glint in his eye as he found her palm once again, leaning into it with an expression that was the very definition of contentment. 

Across the gaping chasm of the table between them, they found each other. 

And that's when it clicked, suddenly, as if everything was a strange, cryptic puzzle that had only just now been solved. Cullen was here, Cullen was _meant_ to be here. How he could he ever not be? “What if I don't want you to leave?” She spoke so quietly that she was sure he couldn't have heard. But a smile broke out on his lips then, a crooked smile marred by an aged scar. 

“Maybe I... don't want to leave.” He said, bringing his hands up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Maybe I don't _ever_ want to leave.” 

His fingers rested on her cheek, his eyes locked onto hers, and she was as happy as she could ever hope to be. “Then maybe you should stay.” She suggested, eliciting a breathy laugh as she leant into the touch of his hand against her cheek. 

“Maybe I should,” He smiled at her, but his smile didn’t last long. It was replaced by the press of her lips against his, a kiss to seal their fate, a kiss that tasted just like the ones she had shared with him before, the ones she had shared with him on that first night. But this was different, the flutter in her heart was different, the feel of his fingers on her skin was different, the depth of their caress was different. Because it meant so much more this time. So much more.

“I love you,” He whispered to her as they broke from their hold for the briefest of seconds, and his words burned against her lips as they came together once again. And so they burned together, as one.

But no fire could burn forever, not even theirs. They pulled apart with a devastating sigh, and the towering flames turned to smouldering ash. They were sat at opposite sides of the table once again with an array of discarded tableware between them. And it felt like they were world apart.

“Ok, here’s the plan,” He said, finally, as she watched him lean back in his chair and swap the caress of her skin for the feel of his mabari’s soft fur against his rough, weather bitten fingers. So that, now, there was a void where his hands had once been, her cheeks burning with a desire to feel the comfort of his touch on her once again. “I’ll go back to mine and bring a few things now so I can stay here tonight as well. And then after I’ve gone to work from here, I can come and pick you up from work and we can come back here, together. And I can do that for as many nights as you like, until you get sick of me and kick me out.” He laughed, but then he went silent again, and he watched her, his honey coloured eyes boring into her soul as he witnessed an uncontrollable smile break out on her lips, one which she could never hope to suppress, even if she wanted to. “Would that be ok?”

“Yes, definitely,” She said eagerly, before drowning her enthusiasm in an outburst of awkward laughter that only ebbed once a vague, distant memory began to worm its way back to her. The thought of seeing Cullen after work made the prospect of returning to the university much less painful. But why had it been so painful in the first place? And that’s when she remembered. “Except, I may be a little late finishing work tomorrow.”

“Oh, right, that’s fine,” He shrugged, turning his gaze towards the dog who sat so proudly next to him. “Is something important happening, then?”

“Not really,” She told him, glancing down into her lap as she rubbed a loose thread between her thumb and forefinger while she constructed the words carefully in her mind. “I've just got to go and have a meeting with the archivist.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Hope you all enjoyed this little short, but sweet, one! And stay tuned, as always, for the next one! <3


	33. The Archivist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen is meeting Amelie after work with a car filled with his things, but first, Amelie must have a meeting with the Archivist

The ancient, winding corridors of Easton Hall had been replaced by the bleak, almost clinically white corridors of the University of Val Royeaux history and humanities department, and Amelie was less than pleased about it. 

Not that she didn’t enjoy her work, it was preferable to staying in the Circle, anyway. But there was something about it that meant that it wasn’t quite what it used to be, the luxury of freedom had worn off perhaps. There was a time when any job, any life, had been preferable to what she had lived before. But then there was her life with Cullen, revelling in the pleasure of one another’s company in the comfort of her home. There was her family in Ostwick, the comfort of their large houses with the rolling green fields which stretched out for miles. And then, there was Val Royeaux, a beautiful city which, unfortunately, was beginning to seem a little bit dull.

But the city was on a knife edge, scarred by all the scuffles Cullen told her about, the protestors, the airport. And the university itself, well, it didn’t seem quite so welcoming anymore. 

There were almost always Templar’s on site now, keeping the peace, watching. Or even when they weren’t she knew that, somewhere, amongst the staff or the student body, there were people who could call the Templar’s on a group of protestors minding their business. So what was to stop them from calling them on her?

Not so long ago, she felt safe here. No one knew who she was, no one would ever know. Anonymity was her friend. But now, it was all just a little bit more transparent. What if someone suspected her? What if they called the Templars? What would she do then?

The corridors of Val Royeaux University were bleak and unwelcoming now, and she was beginning to question if this was where she really wanted to spend the rest of her life. Not when she knew that, while she shivered within the old, crumbling walls of Val Royeaux University, the sun was rising over the city of Ostwick, and the rolling green fields which surrounded Easton Hall.

But she had little time to ponder on her fate, nor dream of a beautiful world that was unattainable. Ahead, she saw Josephine walk down the corridor towards her and throw her an excited wave that Amelie felt compelled to return despite the shadow that loomed over her.

“Hey, Amelie!” She cried as she bounded down the corridor with her heels clicking ferociously against the plastic floor. “It’s good to see you back, are you feeling better?”

“Oh, yeah, thanks,” She said, clearing her throat dramatically before lowering her voice to a croaky whisper as she remembered the poor excuse she had given Josephine on the phone just over a week ago. “One of my nephews must have given me a cold.”

“Kids are _always_ getting ill!” Josephine sighed, moving to give her a sympathetic pat on her arm before deciding against it, instead choosing to glance at the delicate gold watch that rested against her wrist. “Well, I hope you get better soon so we can have a good catch up. It’s been so long!” She moved to waltz past Amelie, but then her eyes grew wide as she stopped in her tracks and looked up at Amelie with a satisfied grin. “Wait, we’re done for the day. Why don’t we do something now?”

“Oh, I can’t, sorry,” She cleared her throat again, placing her hand over her chest as she did so and earning herself a sympathetic tut from Josephine. “Cullen is meant to be picking me up from work”

“Oh, that’s so nice of him!” She gushed with a twinkle in her eye and a teasing smile. “You two have been going out for some time now, seems like it’s all getting a bit serious.”

“Well, I guess it is a bit,” She admitted, while Josephine’s delighted laugh sent a surge of red racing towards her cheeks.

“Oh, how lovely! I’m so happy for you” Josephine looked over Amelie’s shoulder with a dreamy air, her hands clutching at her chest as she smiled sweetly to herself, before snapping back to normality in an instant. “But I shouldn’t keep you, don’t want to keep him waiting! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Of course, see you tomorrow,” She threw her one last smile before Josephine turned to make her way down the corridor past her, with her heels echoing around the busy corridor with a determined gait. 

She felt bad for lying. Except, well, she wasn’t really. Cullen wasn’t coming to meet her, not for some time, anyway. For now, she was heading down the hallway and towards the large library on the ground floor, the library which, in a far corner, held her faculty archives, managed of course by Dorian Pavus who appeared to be closing down his small station and throwing his things into a bag with some haste.

“You know my rules, Amelie,” He told her with an air of indifference as he kept his face buried in his bag which appeared to be filled to the brim with old, leather bound books. “As soon as that clock hits six, I’m out of here. Get your books by half-five or you’re not getting them.”

“I’m not here for work,” She told him, folding her arms across her chest as she perched herself down next to him on the cluttered desk in between the reams of paperwork and piles of miscellaneous stationery. “I thought we could catch up? It’s been a while since we’ve talked.”

He paused for a second, looking up at her with his brows furrowed for the briefest of moments before returning his attention back to his bag. “You’re right, actually,” He sighed, throwing her a weary smile before finishing off his packing and throwing the bag over his shoulder. “Sorry, it’s just been a pretty busy time for me.”

“Oh, really?” She asked as she watched him stand awkwardly beside the desk with his hands thrown into the pockets of his black coat. “What have you been up to, then? Anything exciting?”

“Not really, no,” He shrugged, his eyes travelling towards the rows upon rows of old books that stretched out behind her as far as the eye could see. “Sorry if I seem distracted, I do need to be heading-”

“So you haven’t been sexting my brother ever since you slept with him on First Day?” She blurted out her words as soon as she saw him turn to leave, and they had the desired effect. As if she had just hit him with a freezing spell, Dorian stopped mid-step. And then he stepped backwards, slowly, like time itself had manipulated around the two of them, slumping back into his chair with his eyes wide as he stared at the wall behind her.

“How do you know about that?” He asked her, turning to her with his brows furrowed as the bag slid from his arm and onto the floor. 

“Well, for starters, my brother famously can’t keep a secret so, honestly, never trust him to do so,” She told him as her fingers gravitated towards and old pen which she fiddled with carelessly while she spoke. “And secondly, I had to use his phone to call in sick and I saw a photo that you’d sent to him and, well, let’s just say I _really_ wish I hadn’t.”

“Well, I imagine you know what happened at New Year, then,” She nodded. “It’s no big deal,” He said resolutely, turning his gaze back towards her with a new found determination. “It was just a one time thing, you know? A bit of fun.”

“Except that’s not true, is it?” She rolled her eyes at him as she watched a storm brew across his face, his moustache twitching with every word that fell out of her mouth. “Because you’re going up to Ostwick next weekend, aren’t you?”

“And how do you know that?” He asked, staring at her with narrowed eyes that almost looked mistrusting as they bore into her soul with an intensity she never even realised he could muster. 

“Oh don’t be so weird about it,” She said, shaking her head at him as she once again folded her arms across her chest. “I was there when he sent you the text. I practically wrote it for him.”

“What...really?” He asked her, slumping back in his chair slightly as he looked up at her with a curious air. “I didn’t realise you were still in Ostwick, I thought you were off sick.”

“Um...not as such, no,” She admitted, and this time, it was her turn to look uncomfortable. “I just stayed in Ostwick for a week.”

“Oh Amelie, you filthy liar!” He cried with his mouth agape as he shook his head in exasperation.

“Hey! Don’t turn this around on me!” She threw her words back at him with an accompanying jab to his arm, causing him to elicit a piercing cry in protest. “You’re the one that’s been fucking my brother for two months and didn’t tell me!”

“I was _not_ fucking him for two months,” He said in hushed tones as he quickly scanned the all but empty library with panic stricken eyes. “It happened like, twice, on one night. And up until I got that text a few days ago I thought that was it. So, even if I _wanted_ to tell you, I wasn’t even sure if it was worth doing because I never really knew if anything more would come of it.”

“Ok so then why were you sending photos of...you know...” She asked him, gesturing vaguely with her hands as her eyes fell away from his while traces of shared embarrassment flittered over their faces.

“I do _not_ have to answer that question,” Dorian rolled his eyes at her, drawing her attention back towards him with a heavy sigh as he went to lift himself off of the chair. “You know, I don’t actually have to answer _any_ of these questions. We are adults and we can do what we like in our spare time.”

“Oh come on,” Amelie whined, reaching over to tug at his coat sleeve as he made to escape. “Don’t be so defensive! I already know everything anyway.”

“Then why do you keep interrogating me?” He sighed, folding his arms across his chest as he stared down at her with his eyebrows raised. 

“Alright, fine,” It was her turn to sigh this time, her shoulders slumping as she pouted her lips at him. “But one more question! And I promise it’s the last one! But it’s actually really, really important to me.”

“What?” He snarled at her with a disapproving gaze.

“I just want to know…” She began, ignoring his curt tone as she fought to scramble together all the strange and bizarre thoughts that had crossed her mind ever since that fateful moment over one week ago. “Why did you wait?”

“What do you mean?” He asked her with a tone that was somewhat less curt than before.

“Well, you said yourself you weren’t sure if anything was going to happen so…” She drew her attention to a seam in her trousers that had begun to come loose, picking at the thread with her fingers with her eyes staring at the fabric intently. “Why wait if it seemed like nothing was going to happen?”

“Well why did you wait for Cullen?” He brought her attention back to him with his sharp words, but the expression on his face was much softer, much more understanding. “You didn’t know he was going to come back.”

“I didn’t exactly wait for him,” She mumbled with a shrug of her shoulders. “I just...didn’t find anyone else. And then he came back so, it all worked out.”

“But also, you know that when you find someone who you just, you know, click with straight away, and you understand each other so well, everyone else just seems kind of…”

“Disappointing?” She offered, throwing Dorian a strained smile before returning to the loose thread on her trouser seam.

“That’s one way to put it, yes,” He sighed as he threw his bulging bag of books over his shoulder. “Now if you don’t mind, I would like to actually begin enjoying my evening.”

“Sorry,” She said as she admitted defeat and slunked off of the desk with a heavy, drawn out sigh . “I know it isn’t my business but me and my family, we’re very protective of each other. And my brother’s been having a pretty hard time recently so, you know-”

“I know,” He said to her, catching her by surprise as he began to take his leave. “Like you said, he doesn’t like to keep secrets.” His sincere expression softened, and a smile replaced the frown that he had been wearing since she arrived. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And with that, he was gone and, soon after, so was she.

The library was behind her now, and so too was the awkwardness, the confusion, the bizarre conversation that she had been forced to endure, the one that she had been dreading ever since she had returned from Ostwick. But she had no choice, she _had_ to know his side of the story, she _had_ to confront him.

Had it been worth it? She couldn’t even tell. She had learnt nothing more than she had done on that evening in Easton Hall, where the whole episode had been replayed for her in one long, mildly graphic, description of the night of the First Day Ball. But then again, how much was there to tell that she didn’t know already? And was there really even a story to tell? 

That was a problem she came across again when she let herself into Cullen’s car and sunk back into the well worn passenger seat with a sigh, inviting him to ask her: “Everything ok? How did the meeting go?”

How much was there to tell? Was it something she was even _allowed_ to tell?

But it was Cullen. She could tell him everything. Well, almost everything. There were some things that, perhaps, it was best he didn’t know. The contents of her wardrobe were probably one of them, for starters.

But this would be ok, surely?

And so she told him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My writing speed is so slow at the moment so sorry for the big breaks and shortish chapters! But I hope you all enjoyed this one! I'm actually very excited for the next chapter even though this was a pretty fun one too! Plots will be coming again very soon, just giving you all a little break before they do :O


	34. Secrets and Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One secret is now out in the open, even if it wasn't Amelie's secret to tell. But she has secrets of her own, secrets she has all but forgotten about.

“So, let me get this straight...” Cullen began as the pair of them wolfed down the flavourless meal they had thrown together in a hunger fueled haste almost as soon as they had crossed the threshold to her home. “When I came over on First Day, they were- ”

“Yes,” She said between mouthfuls of sloppy, lukewarm pasta while Cullen fell silent in front of her, looking off into the distance with narrowed eyes as she all but saw the gears in his mind turning as he sorted through his thoughts.

“Which one was he again?” Cullen maintained his curious stare as he spoke, all but abandoning the bland food that was stagnating on the plate in front of him, his attention turning instead to the mabari at his feet who seemed just as revolted by their food as they both were. “Have I met him? My memory isn’t always very good.”

“Yeah, think so,” She said with a shrug as she continued to wolf down her food, abandoning it only for a moment as she gestured to her upper lip. “With the moustache.”

“Oh,” He mumbled as he gave a small nod of his head, before he turned to her suddenly with wide eyes filled with recognition. “Oh! I know!” He pointed a finger at her in excitement before returning to his food with a smile that beamed with pride. “But only because he never called Iron Bull back and he was really annoyed about it. Kept going on about it at work it drove us all mad.”

“What? Who’s that?” This time, it was her turn to abandon her food as she stared over at Cullen her face scrunched up in confusion.

“Oh, he’s this big Qunari guy who works with us,” He told her as he gesticulated with his arms wide out in front of him. “It’s a bit dodgy, actually. He openly admitted he’s spying on us for the Qunari but, you know, we needed numbers I guess.” He shrugged with indifference as his attention once again returned to his food. “But at least I know now why he never got that call back.”

“Don’t tell him!” She cried, earning a bemused laugh from Cullen as she tapped his arm with her hand in desperation. “Well I don’t want some huge Qunari turning up on my doorstep blaming me for his misfortune!”

“As if I would let that happen,” Cullen assured her with a scoff, his attention returning to her as his golden brown eyes rose to greet her once again. “As long as I’m here, no gigantic Qunari’s will be turning up to harass you.” As if in agreement, Leo emitted a low grumble that caused the two of them to jump out of their seats, only to find that he was staring blankly at a fly that had flown past his beedy eyes. “See, he will protect you, at least.” Cullen placed a hand between the two pointed ears that almost always stood to attention. 

“I thought you said I could look after myself,” She reminded him with her eyebrows raised, leaning forward to rest her chin on her hand as she abandoned the remnants of her meal. 

“Oh I’m sure you can,” He said, his expression unchanging as he turned his gaze towards her, his hand coming to rest on the mabari’s round head as he addressed her with the utmost sincerity even as she scoffed at his words. “What? I mean it. I bet you can be really feisty if you want to.”

“Are you just saying that because I’m a redhead?” She cocked her head at him as she witnessed him scramble his words together with a satisfied smile.

“No, I’m not, I-” He let out a heavy sigh as he slumped his shoulder in resignation. “I just mean all your family are quite…”

“Quite…?” She cocked her head even further, and out of the corner of her eye, she even saw Leo turn to look at his owner, who suddenly looked more alarmed than he ever had before as his eyes flickered between the two of them.

“Determined,” He said finally with a satisfied nod of his head. “If you want something, you get it.” He looked far too pleased with himself as he sat himself up straight, smiling over at her with a smug grin as he clambered out of the hole had begun to dig himself into. “It surprised me, actually. Even your sister, as sweet as she is, can be quite headstrong with her ideas. And, well, you may look lovely and adorable but I imagine it took a lot of determination to get yourself here.”

“Well, my father paid for my degree…” She began, but Cullen soon cut her off.

“Yeah but he didn’t do it for you, did he?” He sighed as he heaved himself off of the chair, gathering up their abandoned plates as he crossed the small room to the tiny row of cabinets that passed for a kitchen. “You need to give yourself more credit for these things.”

“What for?” She asked, turning round to watch him as he dropped the plates into her sink. No, _their_ sink. Everything in this house was _theirs_ , now. 

“For being clever, and successful, and _determined_ ,” He told her, abandoning the dirty plates and instead crossing the room once again to stand beside her as she leant on the wooden back to her chair. “Honestly you’ve done well getting yourself a job at the university, one of the best universities in the South, no least.” His fingers moved to her scalp where they stroked the soft hairs that circled around her ear and down towards her neck. “I couldn’t do what you’ve done. If I could, I wouldn’t be working for Cassandra.”

“You don’t like it there?” She asked him with her brows furrowing in concern. “I thought you did.”

“Well, I don’t _like_ it as such,” He admitted with a heavy sigh. “But I’m good at it. And, sometimes, we do good things. At the minute though we’re just chasing up rumours and speculation, everyone is suspicious of everyone at the moment.”

“They are?” Her head shot up in alarm, casting off the delicate dance of his fingers against her hair as his hand reluctantly fell to his side. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine,” He said, looking down at her with an encouraging smile as his fingers found her hair once again, tucking it behind her ear with the deft movement of practiced hands. “You’re not exactly one to cause trouble.”

“ _Really?_ ” She raised her eyebrows at him again, apparently a common theme for their conversation this evening. But he only laughed.

“Seriously,” His chuckle was warm and, as always, it brought her comfort. Safety was something she always felt when she was with him, comfort and safety. How could she not believe everything he said? “And, besides, you can look after yourself, right?”

“Apparently, yes,” It was her turn to laugh this time as she leant into the touch of his hand, his arms folding around her as the comfort of his hand switched for the comfort of his chest. “And if not, then, I have you.”

“Yeah, you do,” He held her close with only the creaking wood of the cheap dining chair separating them, but he soon pulled away from her again as Leo grumbled and whined behind them. “And you have him, of course.”

They both turned to look at the large warhound who sat beside the table with a glum expression, his pointed ears drooping ever so slightly as he stared up at them with wide, pleading eyes. 

“Does he want something?” She asked, turning away from Leo’s pitiful stare to watch Cullen as he looked down at his faithful dog with a frown. “He looks sad.”

“No, I think he just wants some attention,” He told her as his scarred lips broke out into a crooked smile. “Are you jealous?” His voice softened as he addressed his mabari, who cocked his head as he heard the voice of his master calling to him. “Leo...” He cocked his head again, this time to the other side as he grew more and more alert, his body straightening as his eyes fixed on Cullen. “Where’s your toy?”

The mabari bolted away from him and charged towards the sofas at the front of the house with Cullen following behind at a half jog, and Amelie was left alone in a peace ruptured only by the occasional low growl and delighted laugh that erupted from the other side of the long room which reminded her of their presence. But far from crying out for some peace, for some time alone, she found herself watching them with a smile that crept onto her face without her even realising.

Because not only had she elected to share her home with him, she had chosen to share everything with him, and him with her. She could see a side of him she had never really seen before, one which he had saved for those times when they were apart. And, of course, it wouldn’t always be quite so nice, there was a lot that she knew he didn’t like to tell her, snippets she had caught during their time together. Flashes of restless sleep and moments where his eyes seemed to glaze over, unfocused, trembling fingers which flexed fidgeted as his mind began to wander. But then he had chosen to to put himself in a place where he couldn’t hide them anymore; no more secrets would exist between them now.

“Hey, I hope you aren’t getting jealous now too,” Cullen called to her from across the room as he stood up and threw the toy into Leo’s mouth, which he caught triumphantly with a snap of his strong jaws. “Should I come over and give you some attention, too?”

“I’m not jealous,” She assured him, but nonetheless, he crossed the room to stand in front of her with a satisfied grin spreading across his lips.

“Are you sure?” He asked, leaning towards her so that his face sat inches from her own, his fingers finding themselves in the roots of her hair once again as he cradled her head in his hands. “Are you sure you don’t want my undivided attention?”

“I think I already have it,” She told him with a mischievous smile as she craned her neck to look up into his honey coloured eyes. “Don’t you agree?”

“Hmmm, not sure,” He answered her with words which were followed by a kiss that saw his scarred lips trap her own in a vice that she knew from experience was entirely unescapable. Because how could she ever deny attention from Cullen? How could she ever desire anything other than his undivided affection? How could she pull away from a kiss that was only getting deeper, more passionate, intense? It had to be him that pulled away, because she didn’t have the strength to do so, she didn’t want to. “But I think you have it now.” 

Their kiss was replaced with a shared smile, one which was familiar, knowing, which had been shared by them countless times since they had met one another all those months ago. It told them everything, it told them how much they cared, how much they wanted each other, how much they loved each other.

No words were needed when a smile could speak for them, and when a kiss could reveal what their hearts desired most.

But it wasn’t all smiles and kisses. Words were traced into her skin with fingers that wound their way through her hair and wandered down to her neck, her shoulders, her…

She pulled away from him ever so slightly, causing his slow movements to come to an abrupt stop as he looked down at her in alarm. But she only smiled back at him.

“Why don’t you go and move all that stuff you put on my bed...” She told him with a sly smile as she saw his smile fade at her words. “And then we can continue.”

“What? It’s only a few clothes,” He sulked at her with his shoulders slumped, throwing her the same pitiful glare that Leo had thrown them earlier today. “I can just throw them on the floor.”

“No you can’t!” She cried, giving Cullen a very disapproving look as she folded her arms against her chest. “I like to keep my house tidy so put them in my wardrobe, please.”

“Alright, fine,” He sighed as he slunk away from her with reluctant, heavy steps, dragging himself away from her and out of the kitchen with the odd mumble of disdain beneath his breath, while Leo bounced along behind him with his tail wagging in excitement.

Now she really _was_ alone, and it felt odd. The house had never felt empty to her before Cullen had charmed his way into her life. But now that the promise of his heartwarming presence had been made known to her, the lack of it was all the more noticeable. 

Without him, her kitchen was quiet, empty. Without him, so was her world.

Except he wasn’t gone, not really, and the calling of her name from her bedroom above was enough to remind her of that. In fact, she was so distracted by all the comforting thoughts that were racing through her mind that she didn’t register that his voice had been filled with alarm, and nothing appeared to be off to her until she made it to the top of the stairs and walked into her bedroom.

It looked like the apocalypse had hit, with clothes strewn all over her bed next to a discarded suitcase. But that wasn’t the cause for alarm. No, it was the long staff made from twisted strands of ancient oak that was now lying on her floor next to the curious nose of Cullen’s mabari, while he looked down at it in sheer horror.

She looked up at him, he looked at her.

“I can explain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the read and i hope you all enjoyed! I hate to say it but the next chapter which may go up next week or a bit later will be the last before my winter break! I'll be focusing on my holiday event and the actual holidays themselves and will be giving my writers brain a well earned rest! But anyway, see you all next time!! <3


	35. Promise Broken, World Torn Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen has discovered the secret that lay in the bottom of her wardrobe, and now, they both must handle the fallout, which may have more repercussions than they both realise.

“I can explain,” She had told him. And she did. 

She told him everything. She told him about the war, and the day she walked away from it, the day she heard of her uncle’s untimely death. She told him about the Circle, and the day she left it, the day they tested her and probed her and took her staff out of her hands, whisking it away from her sight never to be seen again. And she told him about those days after, and the day that a woman came to her parent’s door as dusk began to fall, the day that she saw the woman he loved for the last time, fresh from the battlefield with his staff in hand.

She told him everything, and then she burst into tears.

She cried for her uncle, but she cried just as much for the man who sat on the bed beside her, the man who was sure to leave her now, after this. She had hidden this from him, lied to him, even after they had sworn off all acts of secrecy until now. No secrets between them, not after before, that was the promise they had made when he had come back into her life on First Day. It was a promise that was unspoken, uttered with a kiss instead of a whisper, but a promise nonetheless.

And she had failed him.

So she cried. She couldn’t help it; her body curling up into a ball with her knees hugged to her chest just as it had done on that first night in the Circle over twenty years ago. Then, it had been her uncle who had come to her aid, with a strong arm clutching her to his chest, holding her in a way that she had never been held before even though he was still nothing but a stranger to her. 

Now, it was Cullen who held her, right there on her bed, with a strong arm wrapped around her even as she tried to shrug him off. Because why would he want her? Why would he want to be _near_ her? Touch her? A mage. A mage who kept a secret from him, a _deadly_ secret.

She thought it was the end, but his hold around her only grew stronger.

So she stopped fighting. Instead, she closed her eyes, and she fell into his arms, and it was like falling into a deep sleep after a long day. He was comforting, but she didn’t feel safe. Because she had done wrong by him, betrayed his trust in her, and he had every right to walk out that door and never return.

Except he didn’t.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” She told him with a sniff of her tear covered nose as a sleeve covered hand moved to wipe the moisture off of the skin above her lip. 

“You need to get rid of it,” He said with a voice that was as cold as the Val Royeaux winter. But of course it was, of course it was. 

“I know how you feel about-”

“It's not just about me,” He snapped at her this time, and she couldn't help but squirm away from his hold as his harsh tone shattered her fragile heart. But then his voice softened. “It's not about me.” He gave up on holding her then, his arm falling to his side as he elicited a heavy sigh. “You're storing an illegal item in your home. If they found it, you'll be sent back to the Circle and it probably won't be the Ostwick Circle, either.”

“I know “

“What happens when you have your next house search?” He continued, his voice raising in pitch as he sunk his face pitifully into the palm of his hand. Until her silence caused him to snap his head back up and glance over at her with his golden eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Have you even _had_ a house search here yet?”

“No,” She told him meekly, throwing her damp red hair behind her shoulder as she brought his eyes to his with a defiance she had scrambled together from the scraps of conviction that lay beneath a veil of tears. “My last one was in Ostwick a year ago. I'm not due one for another year.”

“You know they can turn up at any time? And what if you get into some kind of trouble and they _have_ to?” Cullen told her with words that were slow and deliberate. “And what are you going to do then, hope they don't check your wardrobe?”

“I'll sort something out,” She sighed in exasperation as she ran a hand through her hair. 

“You need to get rid of it,” He told her again, but he was more insistent this time, more sincere. His tone was sharp and firm, if not completely cold. But still, she fought. 

“I can't- ” She began, but he cut through her words with a tongue as sharp as a knife. 

“You have to!” He insisted. “Amelie, please…”

“It's all I have left!” Her voice broke, and so did she; a spark ignited inside her and a fire was lighting in her heart. “It's all I have from the Circle, from him. They took everything else from me, they took him from me, and now all I have is that staff.” It leered at them as it lay on the floor in front of them, where Leo stared at it with wary eyes as he flopped himself down beside it. “You've seen how my Father is with me. Uncle Armin was my father, he raised me and cared for me and watched me grow. And I don't even have a photo to remember him by.”

“But you're putting yourself in danger, Amelie,” He reminded her with another heavy sigh that turned into a drawn out silence punctuated only by the occasional sniffle that erupted from her nose and a tired grumble from his dog. “Sooner or later, they will find it and they will throw you back into the Circle and destroy it. And everything you have here will be taken from you, your job, your family...” He paused for a second, his breath hitching ever so slightly as he took one more deep breath before the final plunge. “...Me.”

“It's not right…” 

“None of it is right!” Cullen cried, his voice beginning to crack as he ran a shaking hand through locks of thick blonde hair. “It's not right that you have to hide yourself from the world and it’s not right that you can't even keep one memento of your uncle, and it's not right that he had to die in the first place.” And then he stopped, abruptly, and he breathed, and he sighed. “But it wouldn’t be right for you to have everything you have fought so hard for stripped away, either.”

She was silent, and so was he, for a time. Her eyes fell from his, catching the sight of a small piece of stray thread that was hanging from a seam on her trousers, and she found herself running the minute piece of fabric through her thumb and forefinger absentmindedly even as Cullen continued to speak.

“I understand, I really do,” Cullen said, and she found herself searching for his gaze once again, abandoning the stray thread in favour of the words which fell from his lips with a new found softness. “I wish I had something from my parents, all I have is this coin my brother gave me.” As he spoke, his hand slipped into his pocket, and Amelie caught the faintest glimpse of silver peak out from behind his fingers as he fidgeted with the coin in his hand. “It’s not fair for you to have to get rid of it, but you have to, for your own safety. Would he really want you to put yourself in danger for him?”

Yes. That was her first thought. Yes. He would have told her exactly what he thought of the Templar’s and their rules and he would have told her exactly what to do about it. Because that’s what he did.

But she wasn’t him. She never had been. She had been meak, quiet, shy, and she listened to the rhetoric that him and his libertarian friends said and she smiled, and walked away, and it was gone. But it was so much easier in the Circle, you could break the rules with very little consequence, sneak out of rooms or steal some extra food or have letters from your brother smuggled in by a kind Templar.

And even when she came here, it hadn’t seemed an issue. So what if they found out? Why should she give in? She wasn’t doing anything wrong? She wasn’t harming anyone?

But now, she was.

Cullen watched her with reddened eyes filled to the brim with tears. Cullen, who had overcome everything to bring himself to trust her only because he loved her, now saw her slipping through his grasp, taken from him. But it wasn’t just him. Her family, who had taken this long to finally cross the abyss that twenty years of separation had opened between them, would be lost to her once again. If they came for her, if they saw that staff, the one that even now appeared to taunting them as it lay on the floor in front of them, it would all be gone. Everything.

She closed her eyes, shut out the world, breathed. “I need to get rid of it.” 

She heard Cullen expel a heavy breath as his head sank into his hands, and it was like the whole world breathed a collective sigh of relief with him, including her.

“I’m sorry,” She said again, her hand reaching over to gently press against the the curve of his back. But at her touch, his head rose, and he turned to look at her with eyes that were warm and soft once again. The tears had all fallen now. “I should have gotten rid of it a long time ago, I can’t imagine how scared that must have made you.”

“I was scared,” He admitted, finally, after he had taken a moment or two to catch his breath. “But not because I felt like I was in danger.” His words surprised her, and so did the return of those honey coloured eyes filled with tears. “I was scared that _you_ were in danger. I was scared of what they would do to you. And, well, I was scared I would be left without you.”

Her hand moved from its place upon his back and, instead, wound its way across his shoulders and down his arm, enclosing his body in the comforting warmth of her arm as she pulled him towards her, her head resting against his as they came together as one. “I’ll never leave you,” She told him with a whisper against the skin of his cheek. “Even if they do drag me away. I’ll just drag myself back.”

He laughed then, and all sense of tension all but fell away from them. Except, the staff continued to leer at them from its place on the floor in front of them, and so their laughter, their smiles, were just a little bit hollow.

\-----

Dagna took no persuading. She was at Amelie’s door in a flash, standing on the doorstep with a wide, toothy grin as she bounced up and down on her tiptoes with excitement.

“I’m here!” She cried as Amelie swung open her front door to reveal the bundle of energy that stood proudly on her doorstep.

“I can see that,” She said with a smile as Dagna skipped past her merrily, waltzing into her home as if it were her own with a cry of pure, unbridled, glee. 

“Oh I can’t believe this!” Her voice was shrill and her eyes were wide as she watched Amelie close the front door behind them. “After all this time, all of these months, you _finally_ decided to-” She whirled around and made to launch herself up the stairs just as Cullen decided to walk out of the kitchen and into the hallway, and Dagna almost walked headfirst into him. “Oh, sorry!” She squealed, before twirling out of path and towards the stairs behind him as if nothing had happened.

Cullen said nothing, he only looked at Amelie with raised eyebrows, and she only looked at him with half a smile.

Dagna wasn’t there long, although she did have to be reminded to actually take the staff with her rather than sit on Amelie’s bedroom floor staring at it in awe. But, eventually, she did, and the staff that had belonged to Armin Trevelyan was carried out of her home rather unceremoniously wrapped in a collection of black bin bags. 

Maker, if he was watching her now, he would be turning in his grave. 

But what else could she have done? And who knows, one day, she may even be glad she did so.

“Is it gone?” Cullen asked as the door slammed to a shut behind Amelie as she turned her back on the small car that had sped away from the roadside with a hearty chug. He stood in front of her with his hands fidgeting nervously in front of him and his eyes turned away. 

“Yeah, its gone,” She told him with the softest voice she could muster, and a smile soon spread across his lips as she saw him expel a heavy sigh of relief. “I’m sorry, again.”

“I’m sorry, too,” His words surprised her, and she was never very good at hiding her shock from him so, when his golden brown eyes rose to find her, his smile only grew wider. “I appreciate how hard that would have been for you.”

“It’s…” She began, but her words trailed off as she too fought the urge to smile at the warm, comforting face that could bring her so much warmth even in the darkest of times. “It’s fine, honestly. You were right, anything could happen.” His smile grew even wider, and she even thought she heard the faintest laugh pass through his lips. “But, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take a minute to myself.”

“Oh, of course,” His smile faded slightly, but the one she gave him return as she scooted past his hovering form brought some light back into his eyes. And she would give everything to go to him, to soothe the worries that troubled his knotted brow, except she couldn’t. Not yet. She would go to him after, when the dust was settled

In her bedroom, the wardrobe doors had been left wide open, revealing its contents to all who came near. And at the bottom, where she imagined normal people like her sister would keep their shoes or bags, there was now a large gap where the staff had been, with only a few handbags and shoes with towering heels to fill in the void. It looked sad, now, empty, but a part of her was glad, relieved. Because he was right, one day, they would search her home, with cause or without, and now she had nothing to hide. Except…

Her hand reached out to one of those handbags, the largest one, and she took one quick peek inside.

It was still there, the tarnished silver glistening as slivers of light filtered in from behind her. And as she touched it with an outstretched finger, it appeared to glow.

She threw the handbag back into the wardrobe, and closed the doors behind her with a satisfying slam that rocked her fragile world and tore it asunder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading!! Unfortunately there will be a tiny wait on the next one while I have my christmas break (hence why I tried to provide a good ending to this one). But make sure to sub or check out my tumblr and twitter pages for updates! And, above all, I hope you all have a lovely holiday season and I wish you all the best!! <3


	36. Sundered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life continues on for Amelie and Cullen after he found the staff in her wardrobe. But his efforts to protect her from those who seek to cause mages harm can only go so far.

After that day, life continued on, much as it always had. Amelie continued in her mundane work at the university while Cullen laboured on on Cassandra Pentaghast’s apparently fruitless quest to keep the peace between the Mages and the Templars. Then they would both come home, to the home that was now theirs, and their evening would be spent eating plain food and watching boring television. Her secret was out, and no ill will had existed between them. For that, she could be thankful.

The sun rose and the sun fell as the days trickled by and, soon, the weeks did too. She would hear from her family, sometimes. Her mother would call with invasive questions, the answers to which she would no doubt use to update the gaggle of noble ladies she called her friends. Her sister would call too, somewhat regularly, gossiping away about people she had never heard of and updating her on whatever fashion had come under her radar. And then, once in a blue moon, her brother would call, and she would breathe a sigh of relief as she heard him talk excitedly about his horse, or her nephews, or a visit from Dorian. Never her father, though, he was as silent and as uninterested as he had always been. Some things never changed.

And as all that happened, winter gave way somewhat reluctantly to the call of spring, and Val Royeaux was freed from the bitter clutches of the Orlesian winter.

But there had been something that Cullen had said to her on that day, that fateful fateful day, where her biggest secret had been revealed to the one that mattered most. It stuck in her mind for those next few weeks, playing on repeat over and over again like background music to her rather mundane existence.

“What if you get into some kind of trouble?” 

She had brushed it off at the time, she wasn’t one to get into trouble, after all. And, besides, she had kept her head down for this long that, surely, nothing drastic would happen now. 

But one day, not so long after he had uttered those words, she did.

And here she was, stood by the sink in her bathroom staring into the mirror with wide eyes which quaked with fear. There was blood on her hands, her face, her hair as she ran her fingers along her scalp, the violent red streak all but indistinguishable against her flaming red hair.

Maker, what had she done?

\-----

It had been a normal day, at one point at least. She had been sat at work stewing in a tedium while the words on the screen in front of her swam and danced before her dry, tired eyes, while time trickled onwards and the sun sunk lower in the sky. But at least it wasn’t raining. 

Now that the snow had finally melted, and the promise of spring shone from the not-so-distant horizon like a beacon of hope, rain plagued the citizens of Val Royeaux on an almost permanent basis. So, she had counted herself lucky on this day as she went to leave the humanities building of Val Royeaux University. Because, whatever happened, at least she would get home dry. 

“Finally, it's stopped raining!” Dorian had called to her as she walked through the revolving glass doors to be greeted by a fresh blast of cold air. “I was beginning to wonder if the sun had abandoned us poor citizens of Orlais forever.”

“It doesn’t rain as much in Ostwick, does it?” She had teased, with a smile on her face that would prove to only be temporary. “Is that why you keep making trips up there? To enjoy the more temperate climate?”

“What are you talking about?” He had asked her, although she never was convinced by his reserved tone.

“You know what I’m talking about,” She remembered how he had stiffened beside her, and how it had made her chuckle with laughter as she watched the minute twitching of the muscles around his eyes as he heard her words. “I know all about your weekly trips to Ostwick.”

“They aren’t weekly-” He had begun to argue, but then he couldn’t. Because there was a sudden influx of noise, hundreds of different sounds that burst through the quiet atmosphere of that murky afternoon. 

She remembered so much, and yet so little, tiny, detailed fragments of an event that ruptured the life she had made for herself, cutting her off from the faint dreams she had held of living a somewhat normal life. It was all over now, Dorian had warned her of such.

“Don’t get involved,” He had urged her, and she had seen the concern in his eyes as he watched her ignore his advice and walk headfirst into the storm.

She knew he was right, no one would thank her, no one would be grateful. But she had a fatal flaw, she always had done. She cared too much, she couldn’t walk away, not even for the sake of her own, peaceful existence, the life she had built here, her safety.

She had done the right thing, she knew that. No matter what anyone said, no matter what happened, she had done the right thing.

\-----

In the safety of her own home, some hours after everything had come to pass, her frantic thoughts were interrupted by the slamming of her front door in the hallway beneath her and panic surged through every part of her body, forcing her to jump back from her reflection in the mirror and turn towards the landing. And then she heard a voice that calmed her, even as it called her name with desperate shouts and cries. She walked towards it, slowly, leaving the bathroom behind her and coming out into hall just as Cullen came bounding up the stairs with Leo shuffling up the stairs behind him. It had been raining, clearly, with Cullen’s hair stuck to the pale skin on his face and Leo shaking his fur aggressively beside him. 

And now that all was silent, now that she listened, she could hear it crashing against her roof like the beating of a thousand drums.

How she had remarked upon the lack of rain, revelled in it, all those hours ago. How life had changed in such a short amount of time.

“Amelie?” He began, his words a whisper as he inched towards her with careful steps, as if he were approaching a frightened animal cowering in the corner of a darkened room. “I heard what happened. Are you ok?”

She took one step towards him, but only one, and it was so small that she may as well have stayed completely still. But there was something comforting about bringing herself closer to him, the fraction of an inch that was no longer between them making all the difference as words began to fall from her mouth.

“I did the right thing,” She told him, although the words were directed more towards her faltering conscience as memories swam to the forefront of her mind once again.

“I know,” His words were resolute, final, but kind. And with those words, he closed the gap between them and brought himself to her, so that her head fell against his chest while he wrapped her tightly in his arms. Here, she was comfortable. Here, she was safe. Here, the world could not touch her, harm her. “Come on, let’s get you in the shower.”

She nodded, and she obliged, even as he undressed her as if she were a child. But she was thankful for it, and for him, even as he sat on the floor of her bathroom watching her as she showered, standing guard, like the faithful mabari who always stood at his side. He was silent, for the most part, and so was she, the crashing of the water against the cheap plastic of her bath shutting out all promise of conversation. But when she had finished, when the rushing waterfall turned to a trickling stream, and all was silent once again, he spoke.

“What happened?” He asked as he passed her the fluffy pink towel that he had been clutching to his chest as she had washed the blood out of her hair. “Cassandra did tell me, but I’d like to hear your side.”

She stared at him for a second as she drew the pink towel closer to her, her nose burrowing into the soft pile as she watched him with careful eyes. But then, she sighed, and her body slumped on to the cold, tiled floor in front of him with her towel wrapped around her shoulders. “I didn’t see it, but I heard it. I was talking to Dorian when it happened, but we went over to see what was going on.” She began, pulling the towel closer around her shivering skin. “Someone had been hit by a car, I think. And then when I saw it I couldn’t just leave them there, you know? Dorian kept tell me to walk away, but I was a healer, that’s not how we’re trained. The Maker gave me the tools to help and I'm just supposed to _not_ use them?” She stopped, to catch her breath, to wrap the towel even tighter around her naked body while memories flooded back to her. They were memories of a young man lying in his own blood, of a crowd murmuring in panic, of Dorian shaking his head as urged her to move on, to leave it to someone whose intervention wouldn’t make them a target. But then Cullen interjected, and she was brought back to the safety of her cold bathroom.

“I don’t think that’s your training,” He said with a firm shake of her head. “I think that’s just you. You could never stand to abandon people who are in trouble, otherwise I think you would have left me a long time ago.” She scoffed, but he only persisted, with a gentle hand moving to smooth the soft pile of the pink towel that enclosed her in small pocket of comfort. “You did the right thing, you stepped in and helped someone who needed it. I was just...well, scared.”

“Scared?” She asked him, her arm snaking out from under the thick towel so that she could seek the comfort of his hand wrapped around her own.

“Yeah, well, I’m not sure if you know this, but…” He began slowly, his words falling out of his mouth with some reluctance as his fingers danced across the skin on the back of her hand. “Someone called the Templars. A few people, actually. And there was a standoff with Vivienne de Fer, and some other staff, I’m not sure how that happened. But we knew it was you, from the description, I was just worried that the Templar’s would have taken you.”

“Leliana told me to run,” She said, her mind wandering back momentarily to the frantic woman who had pulled her out of the babbling, screeching crowd and set her on her way to freedom, before she shook her head and forced herself back into the present, to the bathroom. Because there was something else Leliana had said, something which Amelie had refused to hear. “She told me not to come back.”

“I mean, maybe that’s a good idea-”

“But what am I going to do?” She asked, her voice breaking ever so slightly as her eyes drifted away from his and towards the tiled walls, following a trail of mould that had gathered in the grout between the tiles. “That was my job, that was the whole reason for coming here! It was my escape from my old life! And now they have punished me for trying to help someone, and I won’t be able to pay my rent and I’ll have to go back to my parents and-”

“No you won’t,” He assured her with a heartfelt sigh, his hands falling upon her shoulders which were wrapped so tightly in the soft, pink towel that she was almost trapped beneath its comforting hold, never to break free, never to raise herself off of the cold floor and rid herself of the small degree of comfort it offered her. “Not while I'm here.”

“Cullen-”

“Don't bother arguing,” He said, removing his hands from her shoulders as he moved to hold her face in his hands. “I'll be here to look after you, I promise.” He leant forward then, crushing the small smile that had appeared upon her lips with a kiss that thawed the ice in her heart and brought warmth back to her shivering skin. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” She couldn't help but repeat the words he had said to her, and she couldn't help but pair then with a smile. Because despite everything, despite the uncertain path that lay ahead of her, the darkness that she couldn't seem to illuminate, Cullen was there as her guiding hand, her light.

“Right,” He declared, his smile enduring on as he rode to his feet in front of her, extending out an arm to help her to her feet as she kept the towel wrapped tightly around her shivering form. “I think you should get in your onesie and go and cuddle Leo on the sofa while I phone your brother.”

“No, Cullen, don't get him involved,” She pleaded, but he only narrowed his eyes as he gazed down at her. “He's got enough to deal with without worrying about me.”

“Amelie…” He sighed, his fingers massaging the worried lines that had carved themselves into the skin of his brow. “If Dorian was there then I'm sure he's already been told. And then he'll only be annoyed that we tried to keep it from him.” He looked down at her with his brows knotted while she averted her gaze, concentrating instead on her efforts to dry her body with the fluffy pink towel. He was right, and she knew it, but there was no way she was going to admit that. So, he just sighed again, and continued his lecture. “Anyway, even if he didn't, we sent Rylen to handle the Templars so I imagine he's told your sister.”

“Oh Maker, not her as well,” She said with a slump of her shoulders and a weary sigh. “I should never have let my family come here on First Day.” She grumbled, wringing out her dripping wet hair with the corner of her towel before her eyes fell reluctantly onto Cullen. “Fine, you'd better phone him before they all get worried.”

“Look, I know it’s hard to believe when you've been alone for most of your life, but people care about you,” Cullen told her, taking the smallest of steps to close the gap between them once again, his hand moving to tuck her damp hair behind her cold ear. “I still don't believe it sometimes, and I'll moan when Mia pesters me to come and visit. But they care about us and they want to know we're ok.” Amelie squirmed beneath his gaze, but she knew he was right, of course he was. 

“We'll go to see them one day,” She promised him, deflecting him from his lecture as she wrapped the towel around her shivering form. “Your family.”

“I know,” He said with a smile as he pulled her hair back out from behind her ear, undoing his handiwork with a swift dance of his fingers, a dance which made her shiver beneath his touch as cold hair touched the pale skin of her cheek once again. “But we need to sort you out first. So go and get in your onesie and I'll see you downstairs.”

“Alright,” She gave in, her shoulders slumping as she wrapped the towel even tighter around her cold, damp skin in a poor attempt to keep out the tide of cold that encroached upon her with an ever increasing persistency as the murky afternoon turned to cold, black, night. “I’ll be downstairs, then.” She reminded him, throwing him a quick smile as she turned to leave the damp bathroom and retreat to the safety of her bedroom and the comfort her soft onesie and fluffy blankets could offer her. But before she could make her escape, Cullen’s warm hand snaked around her torso, pulling her ever so slightly towards him as he leant forward to plant a kiss on her cold lips, a kiss that caused a wave of warmth to wash over her shivering skin, relaxing her, calming her, calling to the very depths of her heart as all her worries sunk beneath the tide of hope that Cullen had called forth.

Because they could take away her job, her friends, but not the sense of belonging, comfort, safety, she felt when she was in her home, sitting on her sofa beneath her blanket with Leo asleep next to her on his favourite pink blanket, and Cullen never too far away.

She heard him march down the stairs behind her and felt his hand rest upon her head even before he announced himself, and as she did so, she felt her heart rate slow and the muscles of her body relax as she brought the blanket closer towards her. “They’re flying down tomorrow,” Cullen said as his fingers stroked the damp strands of hair on the top of her head. 

“Both of them?” She asked him, turning to stare up into his honey coloured eyes as she leant back against the slightly worn cushions of her sofa. 

“Yeah, apparently,” He smiled down at her as his fingers traced her cascading tendrils of hair and found themselves upon the skin of her cheek. “Would you like me to get you anything?”

She sat and thought for some time, her eyes wandering away from his as she traced a crack in the plaster of her wall before they snapped back to his with just the trace of a smile forming on her lips. “Could you get me some ice cream from the freezer?”

“Oh, right,” She heard him stifle a laugh, and a frown passed over her face in a momentary flash of disbelief until he shook his head and corrected himself. “Of course, sorry. I’ll get a few scoops for myself, too.”

“Cullen just bring the whole tub,” She told him with a nonchalant shake of her head as he resigned himself to bringing the tub of ice cream with a warm hearted chuckle. “I have tried dieting, and I don't enjoy it, so my mother is just going to have to accept that I am sad and fat.”

“You’re not fat and you don't need to,” She heard him call from her kitchen before he re-emerged with the tub of ice cream in one hand and his phone in the other. “Also your brother has just messaged me to say that Claudette isn't coming.”

“Oh...that's a shame-”

“But he's bringing the kids instead…” He said hurriedly, pursing his lips as he watched her reaction carefully. “He says he will explain when he gets here.”

“Maker’s breath...” She grumbled, leaning back against the soft cushions of her sofa and she screwed her eyelids shut and hid herself from the increasingly cruel world she lived in. “Why does the Maker play his cruel tricks on me?” She opened her eyes and turned to Cullen once again, who was stood awkwardly in the centre of the room with the ice cream in hand. “Bring that ice cream over, Cullen. I'm going to need it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone! Hope you all had a good holiday period! Updates will be semi regular once again but the chapters are getting long again so there may be substantial waits between them. Thank you for reading and I will see you next time!


	37. Reckoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dust has begun to settle, and the dawn has risen on the first day of unemployment for Amelie. But while she is surrounded by those who seek to protect her, it seems that she may not be the only one in need of protection.

There was no reason for her to wake that morning. No reason at all. There was no reason to go further than the upstairs of her home, no reason to clamber out of her onesie and dress in normal clothes. There was no reason for her to leave her home at all, no job to go to, friends to see. Her friends were all stewing away in the halls of that ancient, prestigious university while she sat and stared at the walls of her home. She had no reason to move, to motivate herself. Except, perhaps, the fact that Cullen practically bounced off of the walls as he tried desperately hard to keep them both occupied. He made breakfast, then he played with Leo. Then he showered, and stood outside with the dog, and came back in again. He put on the TV, turned it off again. Picked up a book, put it down again. Made what seemed like hundreds of cups of coffee and tapped his fingers against the outside of every single one, tapping out a rhythm that she didn’t recognise, one which echoed off of the quiet walls of her home and tore through her troubled mind like the sharp bite of winter on an unsuspecting autumn. He was keeping his hands busy, she knew, a side effect of all those vices he had tried so hard to shake. But it drove her mad. “Cullen!” She cried, after he had stared into his empty mug and tapped his finger against the chipped ceramic for what had seemed like an age. “Hmm?” His eyes jumped up from the empty mug in front of him and fell upon her in one, swift motion. “Did you need something?”

“I need you to go and burn off some steam before you break one of my mugs!” She sighed from her perch in the corner of her sofa, where she sat with her fingers absentmindedly stroking at the soft ears of his mabari who stared up at her with his large eyes filled with self pity. 

“But...I wanted to stay with you,” He said sheepishly, his gaze falling back down to the mug in his hands which he began once again to tap with his forefinger. “I just want to make sure you’re ok.”

 _“Please,_ Cullen,” She sighed, closing her eyes as she fought to drown out the incessant tapping that had filled her quiet home once again. “I’ll be fine, everyone will be here soon.” She reminded him, and herself, with a shiver that shot through her spine and threatened to give her a migraine. “Just go, Cullen. _Please.”_

“Alright…” He said with a reluctant shrug and a heavy sigh as he dragged himself away from the mug of coffee and came to stand over the nest she had made on her sofa, just as Leo decided that the promise of a walk was far more interesting than her company and bounded off of her lap to go and stand next to him. “Promise me you won’t get lonely and miserable?”

“I promise,” She said, smiling up at him as he leant down to plant a gentle kiss upon her lips that lingered for only a second longer than it needed to, a tinge of regret at her insistence on him leaving that she only buried as he left her to sit on the sofa in her onesie, and break her promise to him.

Because suddenly, now that Cullen was no longer there to irritate her with the tapping of his fingers against her mugs, now that he wasn’t making coffee every thirty seconds or going in and out of her front garden or putting on the TV and turning it off again, the house felt empty, quiet, too quiet. There was no tapping of his fingers against the side of a mug to bother her, now, but there was no other noise either. She was accompanied only by a heavy silence, a silence that seemed unnatural, deafening. 

And with it, came the memories of the day before, memories she would rather drown out with the sound of Cullen’s incessant tapping. So she shook her head violently, shaking off the demons who plagued her troubled mind, and strode out of her living room to distract herself until they could plague her no more.

She had plenty to do, anyway, and not too much time to do it. She had whiled away the day by sitting in her pyjamas and watching Cullen fidget, and now, somehow, it was the evening. She had spent the whole day doing nothing, absolutely nothing, and she really wasn't sure how to feel about that. Particularly when, as she tried to make herself presentable in the mirror in her hall while her doorbell rang viciously, she realised that the bags under her eyes were far too obvious for her liking, and the kink in her hair gave her an unkempt appearance.

But with a sigh, she gave into the call of the cheap tinny bell, and opened the door to find her brother and nephews, one of which was stood on his tiptoes with a finger held down on the doorbell while the other stood on her doorstep with a scowl on his face.

“I did it!” Antony cried with a satisfied grin as the heels of his feet flopped back onto the rain battered concrete step. 

“Yeah, and I think you woke up the entire neighbourhood, too,” Lionel sighed with a roll of his eyes as he shepherded them into her home with very little invitation from her. “Excuse us for being late, there was a hold up.”

“He made us go shopping,” Antony told her as he poked around the hallway of her home with an air of curiosity and just the slightest hint of disdain. “It’s very small in here.”

“Don’t be rude,” Her brother told him, before gesturing to the long grey coat that only accentuated his height and all but drowned his skinny form. “I don’t know why I got it, actually. I don’t normally wear grey, but it was an impulse buy and then _someone_ …” He turned his gaze to Francis, who clutched desperately at his hand while trying to stifle a yawn. “Got tired and grumpy. But what do you think?” He asked her, finally, turning his hazel green eyes towards her as she stood in front of them with her mouth agape in bewilderment.

“Oh, right,” She said, shaking her head as she fought to bring herself back to Thedas amid the overwhelming tide of chaos that had rushed over her. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

He paused for a second, eyeing her up with a degree of suspicion before rolling his eyes and releasing a heavy sigh. “Well, you’re hopeless...” He told her, before turning his attention to their luggage, which he dumped beneath her coat hangers with no grace whatsoever. “I’ll ask Claudette when I phone her tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah. Why didn’t she come again?” Amelie asked him, causing him to pause mid air as he reached to hang his new coat, which she noticed still had the label inside, on top of her dark blue one. 

“Well, you know…” He brushed off her question with a quick shrug of his shoulders as he finished hanging his coat, before waltzing away from her to do a quick scan of the downstairs of her home. “Where’s Cullen?” 

“Oh, he went out,” She told him as she looked up at him with her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What’s-”

“I need to take the boys up to bed,” He cut through her line of questioning with words that were firm and absolute and a gaze that was piercing, and in response, the words disappeared from her lips and her mouth slammed shut. “Then we can, you know, talk.”

“Talk about what?” Antony asked just as Francis was scooped up into his father’s arms and Antony found himself shepherded up her winding staircase behind them. “Talk about _what_?” 

Their words trailed away until she could hear nothing more than a series of incoherent mumbles and the occasional thud that both concerned her and failed to surprise her. And then, of course, her brother bolted back down the stairs with a quick mumble of “forgot the bags” and a request for some tea. So then she was on tea duty, and while all the excitement happened above her head, she slunk over to her small kitchen and absentmindedly flipped the switch on her kettle and waited for the violent rumble of the of boiling water to sound.

“Well that was easier than it usually is,” Lionel bounded into her kitchen just as she began to pour out the tea. “So how is my little baby sister doing?”

“I’m fine,” She told him with a roll of her eyes, ignoring the wide grin that was spreading across his face as she turned away from him to deliver the mugs of tea to her living room, dropping them down onto the coffee table in the centre of the room as she sunk back into the spot on the sofa that she had occupied for most of the day. “Now will you _please_ tell me what’s going on?”

“What are you talking about?” He asked with a frown as he collapsed onto the other sofa and threw his feet up onto the old worn cushions, grabbing the mug of tea she had left for im and clutching it to his chest as if it were precious to him. 

“Claudette!” She reminded him with another roll of her eyes, as she watched him star at her with a dumbfounded expression.

“Oh, right!” He cried, shaking his head in what appeared to be disbelief as he let out a soft, breathy laugh. “Honestly, I come all the way down on here to check on you and all you can think about is what Claudette is doing! You’re hopeless, Amy, always looking out for other people but not yourself!”

“Shut up! I’m just worried!” She told him with her voice shrill in desperation. “And if you wouldn’t keep avoiding my questions, I might not be so worried.”

“Well, not sure about that,” He said as he watched her with careful, before a sudden noise erupted from the hall and caused them both to jump out of their skin. But the voice that accompanied the noise told her there was no cause for alarm as Cullen both announced himself and spoke to another whose strong Marcher accent she didn’t recognise. Until she heard the front door close, and the voices grew stronger, louder. Then she could hear the distinctive voice of someone from Starkhaven, one she knew from the infrequent trips she had made to see her grandparents as a child, and the frequent moments when the odd word caught her mother out as she dropped her awful attempt to hide it.

Then, after she had called out to them, they rounded the corner into the living room, and Cullen’s friend Rylen followed him closely with his dark eyes scanning her home as Cullen came to join her on her sofa with Leo bouncing at his heel. Lionel didn’t even seem bothered by Rylen’s presence, his eyes falling on the man for just a second before he turned to Cullen and threw him a smile while Leo gave him an investigative stare.

“Sorry to bother you,” Rylen said to her as he continued to search her home with his roaming eyes. “I just came to pick up a coat I left here the other day.”

“That’s fine,” She threw him a strained smile as he paused in his search to give her a wary glance. But it didn’t seem to convince him.

“Is everything ok? After what happened yesterday I can imagine you’re a bit shaken up.” He asked, and the churning in her stomach returned beneath the weight of his stare. 

“Yes, thank you,” She smiled again, but this time, it was even more strained, and even less convincing. So much so that she felt Cullen’s arm worm its way around her back and rest itself upon her waist as he enclosed her in the warmth of his arms “I actually have my brother and nephews visiting at the minute, to keep me company while I have no work.” She indicated to her brother as he all but lay horizontally on the cushions of her sofa looking completely uninterested in the conversation that was taking place around him whle he drank his tea in silence.

“Oh, beg your pardon,” Rylen apologised with a hint of red blooming on his tattoo lined cheeks as he returned his attention to the search for his coat. “I’ll just find it and leave again, get out of your way.”

“It’s fine, honestly,” Lionel told him, turning to him for the first time since he had entered and giving him a polite smile. But then she saw every inch of his body freeze, like a person hit by a icy blast of magic, and his smile faded as his whole face moulded into a frown. “Wait, I know you from somewhere.”

The two locked eyes, staring at one another like a bear staring down an innocent, helpless nug. And then, slowly, the nug spoke. “I’m sorry, I think you’re mistaken-”

“No, I’m not,” Her brother turned back towards her, watching her and Cullen with narrowed eyes as she all but saw a thousand thoughts swarm through his mind, mulling over words, calculating. “You wanted to know why Claudette couldn’t be here tonight?” 

She moved to respond to his question with nothing but bewilderment, but to her surprise, Cullen joined her with the exact same question that was about to pass her lips. It was a question brought on by the wild look in her brother’s eyes, the frantic way he had dismissed all of her questions leading up until now, until Rylen was stood here in front of them with his eyes quivering in fear after having all but jumped out of his skin at the mention of Claudette’s name. 

“Has something happened to Claudette?” They asked it together, almost in perfect unison with neither of them sparing time between words for even a breath, and as they did so, she saw dread in the eyes of man from Starkhaven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed and thanks for reading! Sorry to do this but the resolution to this won't be up until next weekend, I'll be in IRL land for a bit so...you'll have to wait on this one I am afraid!


	38. Of Her Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her brother's words and her sister's absence have given Amelie cause for concern. But with her attention drawn to the welfare of those around her, has she forgotten to look out for herself?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: Some mentions of Cullen's lyrium withdrawal and addiction towards the end.

“Has something happened to Claudette?” Amelie's question to her brother was mirrored by Cullen and, as her eyes drifted towards him, she noticed that his jaw was set and his eyes fixed on the two men who stood in front of them. His hackles were raised just as Leo's were when he saw a squirrel in their garden, and it was a look she had rarely seen in his soft brown eyes. Except, perhaps, on that night all those months ago when that stern gaze had fallen upon her, when he had sworn upon his return that she would never see that look again. But now, here it was, a fire in his eyes that could set the world ablaze, and all for the sake of her sweet younger sister. It made her wonder what could happen if that gaze was turned towards her own protection.

“I...I don’t know,” Her brother began with a heavy sigh as he leant forward to run his fingers through his short strands of red hair. “I phoned her yesterday after Cullen texted me, but it was Marcus who picked up, on her mobile of all things, and I can’t remember what he said but I remember it being...weird.” He paused then, leaning back to once again rest against the sofa cushions with his head resting in his hand as he leant against the arm of the chair, his hazel green eyes staring out in front of him as he continued his story. “And then about ten minutes later, she texted me to say she couldn’t come and wouldn’t tell me why. So I called Jen-”

“Sorry, what?” Amelie interjected, staring at her brother with her eyes wide as he answered her outburst with a reproachful look. “Why would you do that?”

“Well they’re good friends, Amy. Even if Claudette won’t admit it. I’m not _completely_ oblivious to the world around me,” He shook his head at her, chastising her for her interruption, before returning to his speech. “ _Anyway_ , as I was saying. Jen agreed it was concerning so she caught a flight to Tantervale to go and check up on her seeing as I had to be here.”

“But is she OK?” Rylen asked then, but any boldness he had found escaped him once all three of them turned their gaze towards him.

“I don’t know, but it’s no thanks to you if she is,” He snapped, earning him a reproachful cry from both herself and, to her surprise, Cullen.

“Hey!” They both cried, but it was her that took the reigns and voiced her indignation, with a hand gently placed upon his thigh until he sat himself back against the cushions of her sofa and lowered his hackles. “It’s not his fault she is married to that...creep. Now could you _please_ just tell us, tell _me_ , what in the name of Andraste is going on? And what the _hell_ has happened to Claudette? ”

Lionel turned towards her with narrowed eyes, watching her with the gears turning in his mind once again. And then he sighed, shook his head, ran a hand through his hair once again as all the tension seemed to leave his body, and he turned back to Rylen with an apologetic air. “I’m sorry, I really am. It’s not your fault, not really...” He turned back to meet her gaze with eyes that were heavy with fatigue. “When we were at the airport waiting for our flight I got a call from Jen, who told me that she had picked Claudette up to take her back to hers because she was worried about her. _Apparently_ , not long before I had phoned her to see if she wanted to come down here with me, she had had a phone call from someone _else_.”

He turned his gaze back towards Rylen, and so did the rest of them. But she could see he was making an effort to hold back, to control the words that fell out of his mouth, his back straightening as he took a deep breath before he spoke his final piece. “I think Marcus has been suspicious ever since New Year because, well, Claudette isn’t a very good liar. Better than me, but not very good. And when he asked her who it was, apparently she told him it was me. I guess that was the first name that came to her head. Then when I called not so much later, and he picked up the phone, he freaked out I guess.”

“But is she OK?” Amelie asked, but so did Rylen and Cullen almost in unison, like a babble of Chantry sisters uttering the prayers they had learnt by heart. 

“I’ll call her tomorrow and find out,” He half shrugged as his hand found its way to his hair once again, his head turned slightly towards Rylen as his voice dropped to a tired plea. “Just _please_ , don’t try to call her, or message her, or anything. I know she’s not there anymore, but I just think it’s best if you don’t. I’ll phone her tomorrow, and then I’ll get Cullen to tell you what she said.”

“Right...thanks,” Rylen said as he averted his gaze and shuffled awkwardly with his hands behind his back and his head turned towards the floor beneath his feet.

“Look, I’m the last person who can pass judgement on this kind of thing,” Lionel admitted with a heavy sigh as he leant himself back to rest against the cushions of her sofa with his elbow planted on the arm so that his head could rest in the cradle made by his fingers. “But you have to at least be careful. You’re playing a very dangerous game here, and if it goes wrong, the only one who’s going to get hurt is her. And just looking at you, and hearing how you treated her so kindly on First Day, well, I find it hard to believe that that’s what you want.”

No one spoke, they hardly even breathed. The only sound that made itself known was the almost snoring of the mabari who had flopped his wrinkled face down on Cullen’s lap and fallen into what looked like a blissful sleep, completely unaware of the tension that hung over the room like a blanket of fog on a winter morning. 

But then there was a noise. It was a soft noise, to start with, then it grew louder and louder. It was the sound of footsteps, small footsteps, a pair of them, and the fog of tension that hovered in her living room cleared as they all turned to watch her nephews wander into the room hand in hand.

“Francis woke up, and now he won’t go back to sleep,” Antony sighed begrudgingly as he marched his brother into the centre of the room while his free hand rubbed at his weary eyes.

“That’s fine, he can just stay here for a bit,” Lionel shrugged as he pulled Francis onto his lap, whose bemused expression had turned into one of pure satisfaction. “You can too, if you want.”

Antony’s eyes were wide as he turned to look at Rylen, this man he didn’t recognise, who towered over him even as he craned his neck to look into his tattoed face. It was the face that Amelie had seen on her brother so many times before, the face that looked just like the one worn by a fennec as they looked into the approaching headlights of a speeding car. Then he shook his head violently and turned to leave. “No, I’m going back to sleep.”

“Ok, goodnight,” Her brother responded with no hint of surprise as he watched Antony disappear from the room with a hurried shuffle. “Don’t take it personally,” He told Rylen. “He just gets uncomfortable around people he doesn’t know, especially if he’s tired.”

“It’s fine, I’d best be going now, anyway,” Rylen told him hurriedly as he shuffled towards the door, retreating out of the room with slow backwards steps with his eyes turned towards the ground.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at work,” Cullen called to him with a smile as he made his exit. But it wasn’t until the front door slammed that everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief and the heady atmosphere in the room finally dissipated. “Sorry about that, I completely forgot you would be here otherwise I wouldn’t have brought him.”

“No...it’s fine,” Lionel sighed as he began to rub at his eyes with his free hand in an attempt to fend off fatigue, until Francis chimed in with a question that seemed to erupt from a yawn.

“Why doesn’t Antony like being with people he doesn’t know?” He asked him as he fought away the threat of sleep with frantic blinks of his large hazel green eyes.

“Because he just doesn’t, everyone has different quirks,,” He was told with a degree of bluntness brought on by a heavy sigh of fatigue. “Like how you don’t seem to want to go to sleep even when you’re really tired.”

“Well you haven’t read me a story yet,” He replied in a tone that was so similar to the that his father had used on her in his sarcastic retorts that it startled her.

“Well that’s because I haven’t got anything here that I can read to you,” He said in that same tone, rolling his eyes as she watched him reach over to the coffee table in the centre of the room. “Except for this magazine called _Ferelden Fitness_ which, in all honesty, looks more like my cup of tea than yours.” He brought it to his face with his free hand as he scanned the image of the grotesquely muscular man on the cover with narrowed eyes, before throwing it back onto her coffee table with a scoff. “Nevermind, they’re all a bit terrifying. Is that yours, Amy?”

“No! It’s Cullen's!” She cried, but this only caused her brother to shift his bewilderment onto Cullen.

“It’s mine,” He admitted with a stifled laugh as he relaxed himself into the sofa cushions, his hand moving to place itself onto Amelie’s back a signal, she knew, for her to move closer to him, shuffle herself towards his body as his hand travelled from her back to her side. “It comes with free stuff...vouchers and things.”

“Right, ok,” He said, sounding entirely unconvinced as he slumped back into the sofa and brought Francis onto the cushions next to him. “Could you pass that blanket over, Amy? I’ll take him back upstairs when he’s asleep and then just crash down here.”

“Sure, we can take ourselves to bed and leave you to it,” She told him as she grabbed the blanket she had been cowering behind all day and flung it towards him, which Leo’s eyes followed closely as it sailed above his head. 

“No, it’s fine,” He said with some enthusiasm, but he couldn’t stifle the yawn that erupted from his lips as he pulled the blanket over the pair of them. “I wanted to talk about you and this job of yours.”

“Well, it isn’t mine anymore,” She said with a shrug, although there was a bitterness to her tone that she couldn’t suppress. 

“You’re really upset about this, aren’t you?” He remarked with his eyes narrowed as led himself down on the sofa and rested his head in the palm of his hand.

“Well of course I am!” She cried with some indignation as she felt Cullen’s arm tighten itself around her. “I’ve been working towards that job ever since I left the Circle, it’s all I wanted to do!”

“Did you?” He asked, and his words drew the attention of the hair on the back of her neck as her hackles raised and all the frustration that had been disguised as despair the day before made itself known. “Or did you just do it because Father encouraged it? And paid for your courses and, I imagine, helped you get this place?”

“Yes, yes he did,” She admitted as her hackles lowered ever so slightly and the redness on her cheeks began to dissipate. 

“And why do you think that is?” He had her, now. Because in all honesty, she had never thought to question why. That was what parents did, wasn’t it? Encouraged their children to pursue their goals and perform at their best. Then she remembered what he had said to her all those weeks ago at Easton Hall, that dismissive tone he had employed when he had said to her mother: “she’s not our heir anymore”. And that gave her an answer, one which she didn’t like. One which she chose not to vocalise.

“How do you know he wasn’t just trying to help?” She questioned him with a firm resolve as she straightened herself up and matched his beady gaze. “He let Claudette go to university.”

“Yes but Claudette is a third child, and she’s always been his favourite. He wasn’t quite so keen when _I_ said I wanted to go to university.” He told her, and suddenly, all semblance of anger left her as confusion took its place. But there were no time for questions, not tonight, not with the speed in which he was talking tonight. “Anyway, I doubt whatever reasons he had for wanting you down here were far from philanthropic, he never does anything solely out of a desire to help.” He continued on with his words mangled by another stifled yawn as he settled himself further down into the blanket. “But regardless of what brought you here, did you even enjoy working there? You never talked about it fondly, that’s all.”

“Well I don’t know if anyone reallyenjoys their job,” Cullen interjected with a voice that was much calmer than her own had been, although when she looked over into his face, she saw that sleep was beginning to overpower him too, and the light in his golden brown eyes was beginning to dim. “You just stay there because it’s easier than leaving, right? And it’s all you know.”

“Well, now you’ve left! And you can do something more interesting than staring at a screen all day reading about...old buildings and... dead people,” He said with enough smug satisfaction that her hackles were raised once again.

“Maybe I _did_ find it interesting,” She suggested with her resolve returning in force. But it quickly faded again as she saw her brother raise his eyebrows at her in disbelief. “Alright, it was pretty boring.”

“Knew it!” He seemed far to pleased with himself as he grinned at the pair of them, smug, even, and it was enough to raise her hackles again. Even if he was right, the thought of him knowing that he was irritated her in the most bizarre and inexplicable way, and he noticed. “Don’t be like that. I may have... lost you for twenty years, but I still know you better than most.” That was also true, although that also made her inexplicably more annoyed. “Honestly, even if you weren’t annoyingly intent on helping everyone you come across, I still wouldn’t have had you down as someone who suits a boring office job.”

“That’s exactly why I wanted that job!” She told him with a heavy sigh and a shake of her weary head as she found herself subconsciously gravitating towards Cullen. “I didn’t want a ‘mage’ job, like a healer or an alchemist or...whatever. I just wanted a boring job that a normal person would have because quite frankly, I just wanted to be normal for once.”

“Well, you aren’t. And I don’t mean that in a bad way because I’m not either, because _no one_ is,” He shrugged at her as if his words were meaningless, or perhaps their message so obvious that they were worth little more than a passing mention thrown into the world with little care. But they weren’t. At least, not to her. “Honestly you can’t spend your life hiding yourself away like that, it isn’t healthy for you or the people around you. So if they aren’t willing to accept you for who you are, and I mean, who you _really_ are, then maybe you’re better off somewhere else?”

“Maybe, but-” She halted her response as she felt the muscles in Cullen’s leg tense beneath her touch as he stiffened beside her. “Cullen?” 

“Huh?” He all but jumped out of his skin as she turned her gaze to him, looking at her with wide eyes that only returned to their normal size after some seconds has passed. “Oh, sorry. I’m just getting tired, I think we should go to bed soon.”

“Good idea, actually,” Her brother said as he watched them rise off of her sofa with the dog towing along behind them. “We need to be awake early for our trip to the aquarium tomorrow. Oh, wait, did I tell you about that?”

“No, you didn’t!” She told him with her arms folded across her chest in feigned protest. But she couldn’t help but smile as she dropped her arms once again, where Cullen’s hand could find her own. “That’s fine, that could be fun, actually. I’ve never been to an aquarium before.”

“Neither have we, unless you count the fifty or so times we’ve been to Ostwick Zoo because _someone_ is obsessed with that place,” He looked down at Francis who apparently lay fast asleep next to him, then looked back up at them with his fingers absentmindedly stroke his short strands of ginger hair. “Anyway, I’ll sort myself out in a bit so, I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Goodnight!” She said with a smile as the pair of them turned to leave the living room and ascend the winding stairs up towards the sanctity of her room. All was quiet on the upper floor of her home, no sound could be heard except the soft thud of their footsteps and the pater of Leo’s claws. She would never have known that anyone was asleep in the room at the other end of the hall, nor would she have known that anyone had been left behind in her living room had it not been for the fact that she had left them only seconds before. It was quiet, it was peaceful, but it concerned her.

Because Cullen didn’t speak. He hardly breathed, either. Even as they left the quiet hallway behind them and walked into her bedroom, all he did was sit on her bed in silence with Leo coming to rest his head on his lap where a hand moved to absentmindedly stroke his soft ears. 

“Cullen?” She asked him again, although she held no hope of him answering her. He stared at the wall in front of him, all but unaware of her presence as he continued to stroke the ears of his mabari. But then the mabari grumbled, a low grumble that could only just be heard in the silence of her home, but it was enough to bring him back to reality.

“Hm? Oh... sorry…” He began, but then his words were lost to a heavy sigh as she saw his shoulder slump and his eyes travel towards her with a pitiful air. “I really am sorry. I’m sorry I never told you about me being a Templar before-”

“What are you talking about?” She said as she shook her head in disbelief, folding her arms across her chest as she caught his gaze and held him there beneath her stare. “That was ages ago, Cullen, and we went through all of this back then. What’s brought this on?”

“Well with the staff, and then with what happened to you at work…” He told her with his words stifled by the sense of dread that appeared to hang over him, coming out as no louder than a whisper even as he spoke into a home filled with nothing but silence. “You’ve just been so good at opening up to me, and you didn’t hesitate to help that person even if it meant showing the world who you were. But I haven’t. I've buried it all, tried to put it all behind me-”

“You don’t have-”

“I don’t want anything to do with it anymore. But, I was a templar once. I was taking lyrium for most of my life up until two years ago, and I thought I had gotten over it, but I’d just replaced it with another addiction. And when I tried to stop smoking, when I have days like this where I’m not distracted by work…” He paused. His breath hitched, his eyes flitted away, found a spot on the wall that he could stare at without care. Then they found her again, and soon he found his voice again too. “I don't think that I will ever get over it, now. It's just who I am, I guess. One of my quirks. So I’m sorry if I ever made you think differently, if I ever made you think that it was all behind me. Because it isn’t, and if you don’t feel safe around me then-”

She didn’t answer him, because how could she? There were no words that could express how he had made her feel in that moment, that moment of raw emotion where his eyes had been filled with the tears of his mental anguish. Neither did she know what words could be used to comfort him. So instead, she held him, his head pressed against her stomach with her hand in his hair as she stroked at the coarse strands of blonde hair that held just the hint of a curl.

“Stay with me, tomorrow,” She urged him with soft words pressed against the mass of blonde curls. “Please, stay with us. Come to the aquarium and have some fun and don’t go to work.”

“But I’ll just be like I was today,” He told her, but his words wouldn't sway her, not now.

“Cullen, you need to stop distracting yourself with work, stop... running away from your past,” Her words were a sigh, a familiar sigh of exhaustion and disbelief and despair. Because the words were too close to home, too real to her, just as her brothers had been. And it hurt. “We _both_ do. We _both_ need to stop distracting ourselves, and...I think we need to start learning how to live, properly, without fear or worry.”

“Both of us...together?” His words were a plea, a cry, and hers were an answer, a promise, uttered in earnest as she forced his gaze upon her with her warm hands pressed against his cold cheeks. 

And she made her promise from deep within her heart, a heart which was softened by the warmth of Cullen's gaze but hardened by her resolve, her determination, to keep to her word to him, to herself.

“Together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and sorry for the delay! The editing brain has not been in gear so sorry if anything slipped through the net. I might remember to come back to this and check lol. See you all next time <3


	39. To Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has been a long time since Amelie has been given the freedom to live. But before she can escape, there are questions to be asked, and answered.

Cullen woke up at six the next morning, as he always did. He heaved himself off of the bed with Leo in tow, as he always did. And he woke her up in the process, as he always did. 

When she was working, she would get up with him. Or, rather, just after him, treasuring the few moments of extra sleep she could get away with before time trickled away from her and her workday began to loom ever closer. Then she would join him in the kitchen, and she would wolf down the porridge he had made for them as if it were her last meal. That was one thing he was really good at making, porridge.

But losing her job had taken those mornings with Cullen away from her, ripped her from her routine and forced her into a new, much more terrifying one that made her want to do little else than stay wrapped up in the safety of her bedcovers. Yesterday, she had led in her bed all morning while Cullen ferried himself around the room beneath her, until hunger and boredom forced her to break free of her cocoon made of cotton and she rose to face the day. And now, today, he was getting up for work without her. Except…

“Cullen,” She called to him from across the veil as she lay in a half sleep with her mind crawling out from the endless abyss of the Fade. “You aren’t working today, remember?”

“Huh?” She saw him turn to her, watching her from across the room with confusion in his eyes. And then he smiled. “Oh, yeah, of course.”

“Come back to bed,” She urged him with her arm outstretched, clutching at his fingers as he shuffled back across the room towards her and lowered himself onto the bed, crawling back under the covers and into her arms as she curled herself around him. “We can stay here together, and have a nice, relaxing-” 

A series of loud noises interrupted her words. It was the thunder of footsteps on her stairs and the cries of voices that were far too loud for such an early start and such delicate ears as hers. And then she sighed.

“Or not…” A loud knock on her bedroom door forced her to roll away from Cullen and turn her attention towards the door with a huff. “What?”

“Good morning!” Three voices called to her as they wondered triumphantly into the room in front of her weary eyes. 

“Why do you all get up so _early_?” She asked with a groan and a pout of her lips while her nephews made themselves comfortable on the end of her bed.

“Why do you get up so late?” Was the response her brother gave her with a half hearted shrug s he stood in her doorway still in the clothes he had worn last night. “Anyway, I’m excited to go to the aquarium. I mean, I always get up this early, and I also fell asleep in my clothes on your sofa so didn’t sleep too great but, mainly, I’m just excited to see the fish.”

“I’m excited too!” Francis cried as he reached over to stroke Leo’s soft, pointed ears.

“Of course you are,” Lionel smiled down at him before pulling his phone out of his pocket eagerly as he turned to address her. “Could you look after them for a bit? Jennifer called me about five minutes ago and I need to phone her back.”

“Can’t we talk to her?” Antony asked with a quiet voice as she watched his eyes follow the pink floral pattern on her bed covers intently.

“No, it’s...um...it’s the middle of the night in Ostwick,” He told him hurriedly as he cast his eyes over to Amelie’s with his eyebrows raised. “You can phone her later and tell her about all the fish you saw. Just...don’t tell her that Francis slept with me last night. And also about the swearing at the airport.”

“You mean the one beginning with ‘f’ or the one beginning with ‘s’?” Antony asked as his words became mangled by a loud yawn, before evolving into a sigh. “I won’t.”

“If you’re going down I’ll come with you,” Cullen said beside her, throwing the duvet away from him as if it were offensive to him as he clambered out of the bed, with Leo pricking his ears and bounding towards him as he saw his master move. “I can take him out to pee and then make some porridge, if you all wanted some?”

There was an excited round of “yes please!” from everyone except Amelie, who was still suffering from the disruption to her lazy morning routine. But she smiled up at Cullen, because she noticed that there was a spring in his step, an air of excitement to his voice to was absent on most mornings when work was the only thing to occupy his day. And it made her happy, to see him like that.

But then he left, and so did her brother, and she turned to find two pairs of wide, hazel green eyes staring up at her in anticipation. 

“So…” She began as she tried desperately hard to avoid their interrogating stares by turning her attention to a thread that had come loose from her pyjamas. “You’re excited for the aquarium?”

“Yeah, we’ve never been to one before,” Antony told her as she looked up into curious eyes which stared at her without blinking, without wavering, until she began to feel as if she were under interrogation. “Have you been before?”

“No, I’ve never really been anywhere like that before,” She admitted with half a smile as she turned her eyes away once again under the searing pressure of his gaze. 

“Because you were in the Circle?” He asked her but, before she could answer him, he launched into another question with his voice beginning to pick up more speed. “Why do you have to go to a Circle if you’re a mage?”

“Well…” She began, but then, just as she was trying to think of some way to simplify the Navarran Accord for the ears of a nine year old, she was cut off with more frantic questions delivered at even faster speeds.

“And why weren’t you allowed to leave? Seems a bit mean.” He observed then, and she was left with no answer except the truth. Because what was there to say to him? What lie could possibly serve him better than the truth? 

And why should she cover for the Circle? For all of those people who would see her kicked into the dirt because of who she was? Why should she gloss over their problems, their prejudices, the way they had treated her even when she had proven her worth?

No, she would not. Not anymore.

“Because people are scared of us,” Her words tumbled out of her mouth before she had any hope of reining them in, holding them back, lowering her escalating tone. It was only afterwards that she could take a breath, stem the tide before it could rise beyond her control. It was anger, she felt. Anger: something she hadn’t felt in a long time, something she could never have expected to feel in the presence of her two young, highly impressionable, highly curious, nephews. 

But it had made her angry. Not his question, nor his curiosity. It was the fact that it was a question she had never bothered to ask herself, that was what had made her so angry But this wasn’t the time, the place, the company, who deserved to see that unfamiliar anger boil up from within her. And so she breathed, and the tide stemmed, and she pushed that anger away. “Remember what it says in the Chant? Magic was made to serve man but never to rule over him.” She told him as she swallowed her anger, her frustration, and channelled it into what she did best. Lecturing. “They’re all afraid because they think that we will want to do just that, rule over them and hurt them. But it’s just where people don’t understand us, or magic, and people are afraid of what they don’t understand. They don’t know when we’re trying to help, or just trying to live our lives, all they see is something they can’t understand. So they think the worst, and it scares them.”

“You don’t scare me,” Francis told her with a satisfied grin. “I think you’re pretty, and I like your dog.”

All sense of frustration, all of her anger, her bitterness, left her, and all she was left with was a smile. Because how could she not? Not when she was faced with a gentle reminder that there were still those in this world untouched by the bitter sting of the Chantry’s hungry claws.

“Thank you,” She told him as her smile grew bolder beneath the light of his childish gaze. “That’s very sweet of you.”

“But why-” Antony began, threatening to plunge her back into the abyss once again until, to her relief, the door to her bedroom opened once again and his words were drowned out by the excited call of her brother as he burst back into the room.

“Breakfast is ready!” He cried, and to begin with, the two boys seemed just as excited as he was, throwing themselves off of the bed and through the door that was being held open for them. But then they stopped, and they turned around, and they stared back at the two of them with wide, dumbfounded eyes. “What? Don’t just stare at me like that, go and get some food!”

“Aren’t you coming too?” Antony asked in a voice that sounded as meak and helpless as he looked as he stood in her hallway with his hands shoved into his pockets and his eyes wide with uncertainty.

“I will in a minute, yes,” He told him with a faint sigh that Amelie could only just distinguish from a normal breath. Except he was met with further silence and hesitation, so his sigh only deepened as he accompanied it with an exasperated run of his hand through his sleep tangled red hair. “Just go! I won’t be long. Cullen doesn’t bite, not sure about the dog though.”

“He doesn’t, he’s very good,” She told him, drawing his attention towards her as they heard the patter of small feet scrambling down her flight of stairs. “How was Claudette?”

“What?” He turned towards her with narrowed eyes as he towered over her, standing awkwardly in the centre of the room with his hands resting on his hips.

“Claudette? What did she tell you?” She asked him hurriedly, before her frantic stare turned into one of exasperation as she rolled in disbelief. “Didn’t you just speak to her on the phone?”

“What?” He narrowed his eyes even further but then, suddenly, they widened again. “Oh! Only for a bit.” He told her with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “You know what she said to me? She said: “it’s nice that you bought a piece of clothing that isn’t brown” I mean, just because I don’t go shopping every week like she does-”

“I meant about the Rylen thing!” She interrupted with her words heavy with the sound of her building impatience.

“Oh, well we didn’t talk about that,” He admitted to her disbelief, and she made sure he knew it with the storm that passed over her expression as she stared him down. “What! Don’t look at me like that! It’s like three in the morning there and she clearly didn’t want to.”

“Well why did she phone you then?” She asked him with a sigh as she leant herself back against the bed with her head resting in her hand.

“Well it was from Jennifer, first of all, and she wanted to ask something about our little Cee Cee’s house which I think I was absolutely no help with,” He said “But they were up talking together and I guess something got her thinking, and when she wants to know something she doesn’t like to let it go. It’s where Antony gets it from, I think. I had to tell her to drop it and go to bed.”

“What were they talking about?” Amelie asked him, but her heart already knew the answer even before it passed his lips, and hearing it out loud didn’t make it any easier for her.

“Well...about what happened,” He told her with a scoff as if he thought she was being slow on the uptake. But she wasn’t, far from it. She knew what they had been discussing, she knew now where her sister had gone to seek comfort, and it bothered her. She knew it was silly, that the hairs on the back of her neck should not be standing on end as she heard her brother speak. But they continued to nonetheless, and it was only her high degree of self restraint which held her back now. “They just talked it over. She _thinks_ she made her feel better. I think she got her to stop crying, at least. But then again, it’s always hard to tell with Claudette she can be very...private. I think they liked talking to each other though, she can really open up to another woman I guess, especially one who would have _some_ idea of what’s she’s going through.”

“But doesn’t it bother you?” She blurted out as all rationality left her, and something else took over, something she could never be proud of. 

“Why would it?” He seemed completely oblivious, taken aback, even, by the question she had asked. But she could see behind his eyes that there were gears turning in his mind as he stared down at her, studied her.

“Well, because she would rather talk to her than...us?” As she spoke, she realised how stupid she sounded, how bitter, how spiteful, even. But then there was that voice again, a voice she hadn’t heard for such a long time, the voice of jealousy, and the words that echoed around her mind: _it should have been me_. She should be the one who Claudette turned to, the one to sit there with her, to weather out the storm. But it wasn’t. She had been robbed of that chance.

“I honestly don’t care who she talks to as long as she talks to _someone_ ,” She was told in a stern tone that drowned out the spiteful voice that was whispering in her ear and brought her back to the realm of reason, where she found herself quickly growing red at the prospect of what she had said. “Seriously, there’s nothing worse than being alone when you need help, and it’s better that she talks to Jen than talks to our parents, at least.”

“You think?” She asked him with a quiet, timid voice. “What about Mother, at least?”

“No way,” He scoffed with a roll of his hazel green eyes. “You know what their advice was to me not too long ago? They said I should move into Great Aunt Cecily’s old country home in Val Chevin because Easton Hall is ‘too big’ for someone to live in by themselves.”

“Well they have a point,” She admitted, although admitting as such made her drop her gaze towards the pattern of her bedcovers and away from his accusatory stare.

“Alright, maybe they do. I mean, it’s lonely being in that big house by myself. And it isn’t easy being in a place that has so many memories. But I’m not moving,” He shrugged as his gaze fell to the floor beneath his feet, which he kicked absentmindedly against the well worn carpet of her bedroom. “As soon as I move, they’ll be in there, like vultures descending on a corpse. They’ve always wanted it, and they’re not fucking getting it now.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Now it was her turn to roll her eyes at him as she watched him continue to avoid her gaze. “I’m sure they were just trying to help. Why would they want to take your house anyway?”

“I’m not being stupid! _You’re_ being stupid!” He told her as his eyes flashed back up to meet hers once again, before a heavy sigh caused his shoulders to slump the thud of his foot hitting against her floor came to an end. “Easton Hall has always been the home of the Bann of Ostwick, it always passed onto the next Bann when the last one died, before we had elections, that is. It’s huge, and it has a lot of reach, and, more than anything, it’s symbolic. And on top of it all, he’s bitter that our grandfather wouldn’t hand it over when he won the election and even _more_ bitter that he passed him over and gave it to me.” He paused for breath, but only for a second before launching back into his lecture once again. “Look I don’t care if I have to spend the rest of my sorry life rotting away in Easton Hall by myself, I’m not giving him the satisfaction of taking it from me. Now, _maybe_ if they had asked me a year ago, or maybe even a few months ago, I _might_ have been in enough of a state to say yes. But, no, he can spend the rest of his life stewing in the knowledge that that is the one thing he will always want but can never have. No, he is _not_ having Easton Hall.”

She had no words, nothing to say. Because as much as she could seek to defend her parents, as much as she believed that petty politics had no place in a family. Unfortunately, she could believe it. She could believe that their father would go out of his way to take what he thought was his, even if it meant sweeping it from beneath his son’s feet. 

“Anyway, something that I forgot to tell you,” His frown turned to a smile as he shook the hair from his face and turned to her once again. “Claudette will be here in a few days. I’ll be going back tomorrow and she will stay with me until she gets here, and I understand she’s leaving me with the dog so I’ve taken that burden off of your hands.”

“We wouldn’t have minded taking her, probably would have enjoyed it more than you will,” She told him after his heavy sigh hinted at his disdain, but her remark only made him sigh even louder. “Anyway, we should go and eat breakfast.”

“Yes! Then we can get going!” He cried as he suddenly burst back into life, his smile stretching into a grin as he turned to move towards the still open door. “You have no idea how fucking excited I am to see some fish. You can tell I haven’t been out much recently.”

“Likewise. I’ll join you downstairs in a second,”” She told him with a smile as she watched him leave the room and close the door behind him. But then her smile faded again. Her smiles never lasted long of late. 

But she couldn’t stop thinking of how she had acted that morning. Her anger at the Circle, her bitterness towards the system she had grown up in, that she had never thought to question. And then the way she had transferred that anger, that bitterness, onto a woman she hardly knew. It embarrassed her to remember what she had said, what she had felt.

But wasn’t she right? Should it not have been her, her older sister, who had been there to pick up the pieces?

But it wasn’t Jennifer Trevelyan who had robbed her of that chance. No, it was the Circle. Had she never had to go to that place, had they at least let her leave, let her see her siblings and grow up with them, it could have been her who was there to offer a shoulder to cry on. 

It was the Circle who deserved her anger, not anybody else, and it had taken her this long to realise why.

“Hurry up!” Someone called from the living room beneath her, and their words dragged her back into the real world, back into the present, and she hurried herself into the clothes she had picked out for the day and scrambled down the stairs to face the day.

Although, for once, there wasn’t much she needed to face. Except, of course, for the world outside her house, which she hadn’t stepped foot in since that day she had ran home from work. But now, her boots landed against the wet concrete of her garden path while the sun peaked out through a thick veil of cloud, and a cold wind lapped at the loose strands of red hair that had fallen out of her rushed ponytail. 

The world was quieter than it was when she had left it, it was peaceful, even, and in that peace, she could feel her brain begin to unwind. 

How could she be hurt by a world that was so gentle? How could stew in the bitter memories of her past when creatures of all sizes danced and raced through tanks that arched above their heads as they wandered into the bowels of the aquarium? How could she not smile when, next to her, Cullen watched the elegant dance of a thousand sea creatures with a crooked smile that stretched across his face, and a light in his eyes that she had seen so rarely in the months that she had known him?

This was how it was to live. This was how it was to have no worries, no cares. This was how it was to smile and laugh as others smiled and laughed at you.

This was how it was to live.

But the stinging bite of reality came for her soon enough, just as they had slumped onto the floor in front of a tank that was so large that it stretched from one wall to the next, enveloping them all in an eerie blue light that was only occasionally obscured by the presence of another sea creature. It was the shrill ringing of her phone that cut through the peace of the afternoon, earning her a reproachful look from the rest of the party as she drew herself away to answer the call with a curt cry of:

“What is it?”

“Well that’s no way to address your best friend from your former workplace,” Was the answer she received, and all she could do was sigh in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience in waiting for this one, and I hope you all enjoyed! Next one may take a while again because I want to get a bonus story done with it and have a valentine's fic to do. But you're all lovely and patient, and I do appreciate it!
> 
> Also: wow sorry there's some chunky bits of dialogue in here but, well, character building i guess lol.


	40. To Be Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her day of freedom had been interrupted by a phone call that pulled her back into the bitter jaws of reality, and now, her hope of escaping the empty feeling that the loss of her job had brought upon her, may be over.

“No, absolutely not! No way!” Lionel told her with absolute defiance as he sat at the small table in her kitchen with his hands clutched around a warm mug of freshly made tea, before he lowered his voice to a hushed, frantic whisper. “Dorian is not coming over here and I don’t know why you would even suggest that.”

“Oh come on!” Amelie told her with a roll of her eyes as she stood by her kitchen counter with her arms folded across her chest. “He said he wanted to talk about something important, and he seemed desperate and, besides, is it really going to be an issue?”

“Amelie Louise Trevelyan. Did I just hear you correctly?” He said to her with his voice raising in pitch before he dropped to a frantic whisper once again. “You think that letting him come here while they are here, isn’t going to be an issue?” He asked her as he gestured towards her nephews, who sat on the sofa on either side of Cullen looking content as they watched a program and rambled in excited tones. 

“They’re children–”

“That doesn’t make them stupid, Amelie,” He told her turning to her with his eyebrows knotted in a stern gaze before his shoulders slumped and his gaze fell away from her. “I’m not in the mental state to be able to take those kinds of questions now. No, you’ll have to tell him to come back when we’re not here.”

“I tried, but he insisted on it,” She shrugged as she grabbed her mug from the counter and took a sip of her piping hot tea. “Seemed pretty desperate, actually.”

“Hmm,” The noise he made was all but inaudible as he covered his mouth with the palm of his hand, his eyes staring off into the distance before she saw a smile break out at the corner of his mouth. “You can never say no when someone needs help, can you?”

“Is that a bad thing?” She asked him with a defiant tone as she watched him from behind her hug mug of tea.

“It is when it gets you in trouble, yes. And it does seem as if you have a habit of doing that of late,” She dropped her gaze at his simple yet far too accurate words, turning her attention instead to the contents of her mug which had suddenly become the most fascinating sight in the world. “Oh well, I guess I will have to get myself out of this hole you’ve dug me into.”

“Well I think that’s a bit–“ She began, until her words were cut off by the erupt departure of her brother as he leapt off of his chair and marched out of the room. “What are you doing now? Where are you going?”

“I’m getting my coat,” He called from the hallway in a nonchalant tone, attracting the attention of the others as they turned to watch him emerge back into the room with his coat in hand. “I mean, someone has to go down there and deal with this problem before the ‘problem’ shows up on your doorstep and interrupts our evening.”

“I can go. I have some books to take back anyway and, I mean, you don’t even know where you’re going,” She offered, but there was no persuading him.

“I’ll figure it out. I went there once but, well, I was seventeen so that was a very long time ago,” He shrugged as he pulled his phone out of the pocket of his trousers and turned his attention to it. “Anyway, Claudette showed me how to get the map thing on your phone once but I can’t remember how to do that. Do you know?”

“No…” Her eyes drifted towards Cullen, who was watching everything unfold with his eyes narrowed in confusion and his mouth ever so slightly agape. 

“Maker’s sake, I hate having to do this,” Lionel sighed as he knelt down beside the sofa with his chin resting against the soft fabric as he looked up at Antony. “Can you do the map thing for me please?”

“Yes…” He said with a heavy sigh as he took the phone from his hand and passed it back over within an instant.

“Thank you, I love you,” He told him with a grin as he took the phone in his hand and stood himself back up again with a stretch of his long arms and a click of his shoulder. 

“Gross! Did you have to do that?” She asked him with her face screwed up in disgust, but all she received in return was a laugh.

“Actually, yes,” He said with some defiance, until Cullen’s mabari, who had been watching him with his dark beady eyes for some time, launched himself off of Cullen’s lap and trotted over to him eagerly with his tail wagging and his ears pricked. “Cullen what does your dog want from me?”

“Oh, maybe he wants a walk,” Cullen said as he checked his watch frantically, while Leo turned to him at the mention of the word ‘walk’, trotting back towards him with his tail wagging even more ferociously. “Maker, I didn’t realise it was that time already.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to do that,” Lionel told him with a sigh of relief as the mabari left his side. “You can take the boys with you, if you like?”

“Aren’t we coming with you?” It was Francis who spoke, she thought, but both of them looked equally heartbroken as they stared up at him with their wide eyes quivering with concern.

“No, sorry,” He told them with an ounce of regret in his voice. “You won’t want to anyway, it will be pretty boring.” The two of them looked as if they were about to protest but, before they could, Amelie interjected.

“I’ll get those books I need you to take!” She declared with feigned enthusiasm as she planted her mug of tea down on the side and strode into the center of the room.

“Oh, yes!” Her attempt at enthusiasm was mirrored just as poorly by her brother as he sprung into action with a shake of his red hair. “You do that and I’ll go and sort out my hair. Can’t turn up looking like I slept on your sofa.” 

“Ok well you get the books, and I’ll get Leo ready for his walk,” Cullen said with a smile as he turned his attention to the dog who was circling around his legs with a heavy pant. “Yes I know, you’re very excited because I left you in all day all by yourself and I am so sorry you couldn’t come!” She watched him as he reached down to scratch the soft fur beneath his chin, but her careful gaze didn’t go unnoticed, and he soon turned his attention back to her. “Stop watching me and go and get those books.”

“Ok...sorry…” She mumbled as she blushed at the sound of Cullen’s fiendish laughter and her nephews delighted giggling. She turned away from their oppressive stares and focused instead on the jumble of books that lined her bookshelf as she scanned the spines and pulled out a collection of old books with yellowed pages. 

“Alright, I’m ready!” Her brother’s voice calling from behind her made her jump out of her skin, threatening to send the pile of books in her books flying. “Wow, those look really boring.”

“Oh, shut up,” She sneered as she passed the books over to him before her nose caught a strong musky scent that almost made her choke. “Is that hair product or perfume?”

“Both,” He scoffed, narrowing his eyes as he stared down at her with a face that told her she had said something completely stupid. “Anyway, have fun with your dog walk.”

He looked far too pleased with himself as he waltzed out of the room with a smile and a spring in his step, but that was, at least, preferable to the tired eyes and the slump of his shoulders that had dogged his steps this past winter, no, these past few years. Had she ever seen him like this since she had returned? Had any of his smiles been genuine?

But then again, had hers been?

The smiles she gave to Cullen were as close as she could ever hope to get to a smile that wasn’t corrupted by the weight of life’s troubles. Especially when he had looked so lost, so torn. But even with the remnants of the night before, hints; those tired eyes fringed by a hint of red and that stray curl in his hair that his fatigued hands had failed to tame told her that there was still that thorn piercing into his mind. 

But then they walked beneath the burning rays of a rare afternoon sun, which shone in defiance of the rain that had plagued Val Royeaux these past few weeks. Then they turned their back on the busy road that ran past the docks, combing their way through side streets and past lines of almost identical terraced houses until they came upon the splash of green that burst out of the dull grey of the city in an explosion of towering trees which had come to life with the waning of the bitter cold winter.

She watched her nephews chase Leo, and she watched him chase them, and she watched Cullen stand with his hands in his pockets and the wind in his hair and a smile on his face, one which was crooked and broken by a scar. That’s the smile she recognised, the smile that was his, that was real. It was one he had given to her so many times before, and one which she just now realised she had not seen him wear so casually in such a long time. Until today, until now, where he wore it with pride.

“You’re watching me again,” His smile did not wane as he spoke his words. If anything, it only grew. 

“Am I not allowed to?” She asked him with a teasing smile as she brought herself closer to him and wrapped her arm around his and clutched at his forearm with hands which were just ever so slightly cold in the chill, late afternoon air. 

“Of course you are,” He told her as she felt his chin brush against the top of her head while she leant into the warmth of his body. “But don’t worry, you’ll have me all to yourself again tomorrow night.”

“Oh...yeah…” She drew herself even closer to him as a stray cloud drifted in front of the sun, causing the world around them to darken for the briefest of seconds before they were bathed in a soft golden light once again. “We should head back soon.”

“Probably, but…” Cullen sighed with content just as Leo let out a bark that echoed around the small park with pride. “It’s nice here.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Her home was not as nice. It was dark, and it was cold; a bitter wind had blown in through the windows she always left open and had left her brother to shiver alone in a semi-darkness as he slouched lazily on her sofa with only the light of his phone screen shining through the darkness. He was all but oblivious to their presence as they entered the room, until of course she flicked the lights on and illuminated the room around him. And then, of course, he was joined on the sofa by the boys, and his moment of peace was forever shattered.

“You were gone a while,” He observed as he abandoned his phone, throwing it down onto her coffee table and instead bringing her nephews in for a cuddle with a gentle sigh. “I was going to make myself a cup of tea seeing as your house is so cold but, well, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Really?” Her hands drifted towards her hips as she stared down at him in disbelief, before she turned to Cullen with her eyebrows raised. “More money than sense, honestly. I bet your family aren’t like this.”

“No, I’m the useless one in my family, I think,” He said with a smile as he busied himself with the tidying away of Leo’s harness and lead. “I mean, when you’re with the Chantry from the age of 12 you just have other people doing things for you all of your life.”

“You can make tea though, right?” Lionel asked with some degree of concern in his voice. “Because I do still really fancy one, and I imagine my little sister will want one to nurse while I tell her all about my trip to the library. I won’t go into too much detail because, you know…”

“Because what?” It was Antony, of course, who asked this with his usual mix of curiosity and mild irritation.

“Nothing!” He responded quickly, throwing him an encouraging grin before he launched into the beginning of his tale. “So, first of all. I ran into your friend Josephine who asked how you were but, well, then we went on a little trip down memory lane.”

“What?” She cried as she planted herself down on the free sofa and invited Leo to come up and join her with a pat of her hand.

“Yeah I met her at a party once when I was still at school, about 18 I guess? It was so long ago that I’m surprised she even remembered it because I completely forgot,” It was then that he descended into a fit of childish giggles before he shook his head and composed himself. “Anyway, it’s really funny so I’ll tell you. I had to come home that weekend so I could go to this party...somewhere. Father had arranged the whole thing as a chance to meet some ladies and she happened to be one of them except, actually, we got on really well. Which he wasn’t happy with because I lost a lot of money to her as well as some of my clothes in a game of Wicked Grace,” It was his sons who giggled this time, but he did nothing to discourage them. If anything, he was laughing with them. “Oh Maker, please don’t tell your mother this story. Anyway, we got on well enough and we were both planning to study at Val Royeaux so we had that in common but well obviously, to Father’s disappointment, she was clearly not my type and, well, the night ended with me being dragged out by the scruff of my neck by our father and then I passed out on one of our parents sofas.”

She heard Cullen erupt into laughter as he placed the tea down on the table and joined her on the sofa with his arm snaking around her waist. “Sorry, um, what were you saying earlier about going to the library? You were returning some books, right?”

“Something like that, yes,” He said in a much quieter tone with all hint of laughter extinguished. “And of course, Amy has a friend who works there who I just so happened to bump into.”

“Yes and what did that friend of mine have to say?” She asked him as she stiffened in Cullen’s arms, leaning herself forward as if to hear him better even in spite of the short distance between them.

“Well your friend is very keen to leave the university, to put it lightly,” His words surprised her, but they really shouldn’t have done. Dorian had never spoken highly of the university; how often had she gone down to the archives to find him all but asleep on that chair behind his desk. “And he has no desire to go back to Tevinter right now so he was going to ask to use your spare room for a bit.”

“Why couldn’t he just stay in his own flat?” She asked as she turned to Cullen with her brows knotted in confusion. But he only mirrored her expression before giving her a half hearted shrug.

“Because then all of the money he would need for a flight out of here would be spent on rent. That’s what he said, anyway, I just don’t think he wants to,” He told her with a shrug. “Problem is that it would take some time to at least try and mend his relationship with his family in Tevinter. And, in all honesty, he was pretty keen to leave the city altogether. But, whatever, the problem’s solved now.”

“It…it is?” She leant forward again as if she had misheard, or missed something important. But she hadn’t, her brother was just being as cryptic as always.

“Oh yes,” He said with his hazel eyes twinkling with delight as his lips formed a mischievous grin. “You don’t have to worry about a thing. I, however, have quite a few things to worry about now.”

“Sorry what the hell is...” She began, but then her racing mind came to a stop, and suddenly, she knew exactly what he was talking about. “Wait, are you serious? What are our parents going to say about that?”

“What’s going on?” Cullen asked her with a tap of his finger on her shoulder. But she didn’t answer.

“Oh don’t be so weird about it, Amy,” Lionel sighed with a roll of his eyes a shake of his head. “And in regards to our parents well, in all honesty, I don’t think I care anymore.” His shrug was nonchalant, half hearted, even. But his eyes had hardened, from the gentle, hazel green of a forest in the onset of autumn, to the bitter chill of a winter’s night. Any apathy he may have, well, she could see in his eyes that it had been won through a hard and bitter fight, and that it was built on a foundation of contempt. “And, well, I won’t pretend my motivations were entirely selfless. Like I said to you yesterday, there’s nothing worse than being alone especially when you’re in a big house like that.” The softness in his eyes had returned, like the coming of spring after a long, dark winter, with a shake of his head and a smile that looked just as strained as hers had been of late. “Anyway, we should probably eat and go to bed, we’ve got a flight to catch tomorrow, after all.”

She nodded, and she smiled, but she said nothing. Cullen was the one who spoke for her, who whispered a question in her ear so frantically that she could feel the rush of his breath against the skin of her ear. “Is he saying that Dorian’s going to stay with him?”

She turned and she nodded, uttering a “Yes,” that was almost silent. And then he nodded too, slowly, before he quickly turned their attention to the prospect of dinner, and all traces of that conversation were quickly forgotten.

But she could not forget.

Because when he had warned of the dangers of being alone, he had spoken the truth, and she knew it. Because her brother’s reminder of their impending departure, and now the revelation that one of her friends would soon be joining him, had left a void in her heart that even Cullen, with his busy work schedule and hectic life, couldn’t fill. Because, in that moment, she had never felt so alone.

Then, when they all left the next morning, with Cullen rushing off to work and her brother’s family had disappeared into the crowd at the airport after a quick series of hugs and smiles and waves, that day she had spent with her family, with Cullen, began to feel like a distant memory. 

Now it was over. They all had places to be, people to see, work to do. And she did not. 

She walked back to the bus stop and caught the bus to the road that ran parallel to the Waking Sea, and she returned to the house that now lay empty and silent. And she learnt first hand that there was little worse than being alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience, I hope it was worth it! I will be looking to fill in the POV gaps with a one shot after I get back from my weekend at home so make sure to look out for that over in the one shot collection or check my twitter/tumblr for updates! See you all soon (i hope) <3

**Author's Note:**

> New chapters go up roughly once a week, dependent on what's happening in my life! Make sure to subscribe for updates if you're interested in finding out more!
> 
> *currently editing and reworking earlier chapters, see my tumblr for updates*


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